Nightmares and Knots
by Teyerin
Summary: Something happens to one of the team and everyone, past and crossover included, pitches in.
1. Discovery

Disclaimer: None of the regular characters belong to the author, borrowing from the World of Wolf. The original characters are of my creation, not intending to resemble known folks living or dead.

Summary: A serious 'what-if' inspired from the events of the Season 14 opener – "Bodies" and borrowing/blending later and earlier episodes while taking some definite 'detours' of the canon LO universe.

Nightmares and Knots

Chapter 1 – Discovery

"We've a body over here!"

The emergency worker crawled into the hole in the wall of the old warehouse building and pulled on the arms tied around an oxygen tank. The soaked body was lighter than the rescuer thought as he wrapped his arm around the body's waist. In the daylight, he looked down at the matted hair and filthy beard that surrounded the mask providing breathable air during the fire in the neighboring building now a rumble of debris.

Slowly pulling the mask off, revealing the only clean part of the other man's pale face, the rescuer said, "It's all right buddy. You're going to be all right."

----------------------------

Detective Joe Fontana let out a low whistle as he recalled the day they were called to go to the arson site. Hard to believe, he told himself, that it was only a couple of days ago, initial impressions settled to a homeless person's barrel fire getting out of control. The building was an abandoned warehouse neglected and ignored like the rest of the neighborhood. But once, it was teaming with life and business, long ago, when he was younger.

He glanced up at Nina Cassady, his partner, who was muttering something under her breath and wondered how she would fair with her first mass murder.

She was easily half his age and with less experience on the job to go with. The kid, and that was exactly what she was, lucked out in a transfer to the 2-7 the same time he did. It was his poor luck that brought her to him as a partner. At least there hadn't been many homicides to work with so far, he reminded himself.

"We take the cases given to us," he said, as if she should have had that figured out by now. "I told you that something will turn up that will tell you why we got this-." He handed her the fire marshal's report he had been reading and watched her reaction. Maybe now she'd understand the challenges that came with working in Homicide, learn the fine balance of reaction and taking action. Her expressionless face was not what he hoped for.

Fontana sighed. Careful of setting high expectations, he told himself. The kid still hadn't recovered from the first homicide she worked on - an unsolved case yet - and that was over a year ago. Gut feeling told Joe that this would be much, much worse.

"Oh my-," Cassady said softly before covering her mouth with her hand.

Fontana forced himself focus on the figures lying among the ruins, images burned into his memory as he imagined the firefighters carefully removing what debris they could.

Joe would have guessed there were at least half a dozen bodies there, but given the unseen, he dared speculate the true number to be higher.

------------

A woman in her mid-50's barged towards the nurse's desk. "Where is he? John, the man you brought from that fire scene, where is he?"

The nurse looked up, marginally registering the woman, whose face was clearly older than the rest of her, despite the pathetic make-up. "Can you be more specific?"

"Him!" She shoved a photo of the man in front of the nurse's face. "John! Not some John Doe, but my brother John!"

The nurse pulled the glasses down over her eyes and studied it. Not an exact match, this clearly a cleaner version of the bum brought in. "John Doe is in room-." No sooner had the nurse finished the room number, the woman was down the hall almost instantly.

"Tramp," the nurse muttered under her breath as she set aside a collection of requests, one of them given by the new intern who was too eager to complete unnecessary tests. It was going to be one of those days.

----

Wendy Douglas let out the breath she hadn't realized she had held during her rush down the hall. He looked terrible, but at least he was alive. She felt the urgent need to hold his burned hands and massage the rope burns on his wrists.

"You can," the young woman said, as if reading her thoughts. "It's amazing, isn't it? I mean, they say so many bodies were found in that place, and here was John, found hidden."

Wendy nodded, frowning at the tubes attached to John. "Have you run tests on him? What was the damage-?"

The young woman shook her head. "Mr. Doe doesn't have insurance and the head nurse only permitted the major checks for hyperthermia and such. I snuck one in, but the hospital's going to let him go sometime today or tomorrow."

"He's coming home with me," Wendy said.

"This isn't like the pound or anything, ma'am."

Wendy bit her tongue as many unkind thoughts ran through her mind. It wasn't this girl's fault and it wouldn't be fair to target the kid with such anger. Instead, she said, "He's my brother and I'm taking him home."

The girl's shoulder's relaxed some. "Oh, that is wonderful! Most John Does aren't identified or spoken for in such a short time." She adjusted the pillow and blanket to make John comfortable, not that Wendy thought he'd notice. "It's…it's like a miracle."

"You have no idea," Wendy said, brushing back a lock of John's hair. "You've no idea."

------------

Detective Ed Green put one hand on his hip as he leaned forward, silently counting to fifty in all of the languages he knew as the other hand pressed against his forehead in a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable headache coming on. He knew managed health care didn't treat 'poor' people well, but their treatment of the homeless was even more inhumane.

One of the firefighters had called to inform him of a body found at the scene Ms. Douglas had told them about not long ago – alive. Initial reports put the body count at twenty or so. Part of Ed prayed that his worst fear wasn't reality, in that the person he sought would be found among them. The page he received sparked hope if even for only a moment.

Then he had to come to the 'hospital of lost persons.' The receptionist at the desk was as helpful as a politician in his opinion. Ask for any recent 'John Does', the reply was silence. Not even the badge brought out an answer. He finally stopped a young intern passing. "Maybe you can help me," he said.

That brought the receptionist out of her frozen state. "She doesn't know anything."

Green held back the replies racing through his mind, turning his attention back to the young woman whose arm he touched. He asked, "Have any John Does come through here recently?"

"Quite a few in the past couple of days, yes."

Ed felt his heart pound in his chest. "Any of them suffering smoke inhalation or burns?"

She nodded slowly, apprehension in her face.

Too soon to hope for good news, he told himself. He took out the photo he carried in his coat pocket. "How about this gentleman here?"

She studied the photograph for quite some time. Then, her face broke into a smile. "Gee, John's quite popular." Just as quickly as the smile appeared, a frown fell. "He's gone."

--------

Mike Logan looked up from his desk. "Where have you been?"

"Hell and back," Green said as he tossed a few things on the desk.

"Maybe one of these messages will help," he said, handing him a collection of pink slips. "I think you have an eager date awaiting you."

Green paged through the slips, most of them from the same person. "She calling back?"

Logan raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize you were that desperate. I tried to get her number-."

"Doesn't have one," Green said. "Damn. Maybe that's…"

The phone rang on Logan's desk. He answered, looking at his partner. "He's right here." To Green, he mouthed, 'Mystery Woman.'

Logan watched Green throughout the entire conversation. Once the call ended, the older man pounced. "Details, partner. What's going on?"

"Remember that case? The one I've-?"

"Your obsession project?" Green shot him a look that didn't faze Logan in the least. "What about it?" Logan was reluctant to admit that signing back on at the 27th Precinct about the time of the disappearance wasn't probably the best thing, but he knew how hard it hit some around him. Most folks, himself included, gave the man up for dead long ago.

"He was found. Days ago, actually. At the scene."

Logan shook his head. He had gotten used to Green speaking in such short sentences, even if it ticked him off. 'Too much change,' was the reason Logan gave him. First Briscoe leaving, then this… "Where's he at, then?"

"She won't say."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, making a note to talk to the lieutenant before leaving tonight. "Is he safe? Is he hurt? I said 'details', Ed."

"I don't know."

Mike struggled not to let the frustration show in his voice as he asked, "Is she planning on meeting you somewhere or what? Is she going to take you to him or give a better idea of where to find him exactly?"

"Find out tomorrow."

Logan nodded, relieved to get at least one usable answer. "Good. I'm going with you then."

"No you're not."

At that, Logan placed both hands atop his desk as he pushed herself with deliberate slowness. Smiling, he said, "We'll just see about that."

----

"It's his call, Mike."

"Lieu, I'm telling you, I think Green's too close to this to look at it objectively anymore."

Lieutenant Anita Van Buren shook her head. Part of her had to agree with Logan about that. Then again, she didn't want to take away hope from one of the few people who still held out for… "Look, would it help if I said you could go so long as you didn't tell him you were going?"

"That's pathetic, Lieu. Then I'll become just as crazy as him, only stalking."

Van Buren smiled. It did sound pathetic, and Mike wasn't one for putting up with pathetic things. "If this informant only trusts Green, we can't afford to spook her. If, as you believe, she's just stringing Ed along, then we need to put a stop to it."

A silence crept into the office. There had been several missing person's cases that led to recovery long after others gave up. And then there were many unsolved cases where hope was lost. She wasn't sure what to think about the case here.

"What if it's true and he's alive?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. Mike, part of me has prayed every night since that day and another part of me says 'this is reality and the odds are against-.'"

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he's one to beat the odds?"

------------

After redressing the wound on his neck, Wendy wiped the perspiration from John's face before pulling up the covers. Staring at him, it saddened her that he had eaten so little. She knew he hadn't eaten a thing the few times she had seen him before. Yet he seemed accustomed to it, and that worried her.

She could have given Detective Green the name of the hotel, but she felt a need to be extra cautious. It would only be a matter of time before the hospital administrators figured out that she gave a bogus name and address. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

At the moment, she didn't care.

The only one who could put Wendy and John together to a specific location would be the taxi driver. Since he was an old friend of hers, and a regular customer, 'buying' his silence/amnesia wasn't too difficult. He even offered to make a couple of stops while en route to a little-known hotel, slipping her some extra cash 'just in case.'

Wendy combed John's hair, debating whether or not it was safe to cut it while he slept. She knew she could do it, knew he'd look more human if she did it. Add that to the partially trimmed beard that she was more than eager to finish, John could look as debonair as ever – even if it was only in her mind's eye.

She carefully rose from the bed, grabbed her purse and the drug center bag, and took out the necessary tools. After grabbing a few other things from the bathroom, she went back to the bed. Wrapping a towel around his shoulders like a barber, she gently rested him against her chest.

She was dying for a beer or a cigarette. Then again, the smell of the smoke would probably wake him up. She forcefully steadied her hands, scissors in one, and comb in the other. She could do this, she reminded herself. She needed to do it, for him.

He didn't stir once during the trimming. Part of her was relieved, another part of her terrified. What the young nurse had told her was probably true, in that the hospital wouldn't likely run the battery of necessary tests for him. She could only hope for the best, hope that Detective Green would show up, hope that the devils responsible wouldn't resurface anytime soon.

After cleaning up the mess, Wendy took her shoes off then slipped under the covers with John. Her head resting against his back, she took reassurance with every breath he took as she held him in her arms.

------------------------

Ed checked his watch for the umpteenth time. What if everything he had believed in was wrong? What if the gossipers were right in that he had lost it? Why this case got to him more than most didn't make sense to him even as he tried to explain it to his partner.

The fact that no one had even looked for this man until a dead body showed up bothered him. Had the workplace been so blind to the people that no one saw that someone was gone and that something was terribly wrong? His partner would have looked for him, of that Ed was sure.

Ed often asked himself, 'How would Lennie handle it?' Part of him knew the answer, knew the older man's wealth of experience and wisdom. Yet the young man in Ed wanted reassurance from his father-figure that all was right in the world.

"Sorry I'm late."

Ed's eyes darted up to see the woman whose return he waited for weeks. The day Wendy Douglas walked into the 27th with news about a man held hostage in one of the warehouses in the lower part of town, Ed treated it as a typical missing person's case. When he took his notebook out to write something down, the well-worn photo of Jack McCoy he carried with him fell out. Wendy scooped it up before he had a chance and let out an almost squeal, "This is him!" She kept the picture; he kept his hope.

"Is he alive?" he asked, now back in the present.

She nodded. "I don't want to leave him alone for long, though." Wendy looked hungrily at Ed's half-eaten breakfast. "Is this a new 'guy diet' or dare I ask?"

One look at her face and Ed saw the maternal intent behind the comment. He cracked a smile. "I'll claim diet." He called the waitress over for a menu then told Wendy to order whatever she wanted.

The order completed and the bill paid, the two of them left the café for his car, all the while Ed was aware of the 'shadow' behind him.

"Excuse me a moment, please." He helped Wendy into the car then turned abruptly towards Logan. Trying to force Logan back with every step he took, he said in a low voice, "Pull a stunt like this again Logan and you and I will be fightin', got it! Now go back. Now!"

Logan said evenly, "And what if you go missing just like him?"

"I won't," Ed said. "Now g-!"

"That's right," Logan said, "you won't because I'm going with you. End of discussion."

The stand-off lasted longer than Ed wanted it to. He wanted to lose Mike and not Wendy. When he saw that Mike meant what he said, Ed had no choice but to relent.


	2. Deliberation

Disclaimer: None of the regular characters belong to the author, borrowing from the World of Wolf. The original characters are of my creation, not intending to resemble known folks living or death.

Chapter 2 - Deliberation

Nina Cassady glared at the man in the Lieutenant's office. She didn't care what the others around her had said. She knew what the evidence found in Neela Simmons's dead hand told her. Cassady committed the medical examiner's report to memory for two reasons – one, it was her first homicide, and second because of the name attached to the evidence found, the distinctiveness of the engraved ring. And now that name had a body to match, a murderer to arrest.

------------

Anita couldn't believe that she was looking at him at last. Her prayers had been answered and Ed's quest might be put to rest. Granted, there was still the mystery of the missing year, the mystery to the thin, beaten man before her. But he was alive.

She pushed the cup of coffee closer to him until it touched his burned fingertips. He stole a glance upward as if seeking permission before taking the cup in both of his hands. Anita watched him take a tentative sip; wince then set the cup down. She was about to put it back into his hands when she saw how much they trembled.

"They'll be back," she said, "Wendy and Ed." She paused, not knowing if he was listening to her or not. "She's quite the hero, you know. I'm only sorry we didn't get to you sooner. I mean, Ed ran out of here as soon as she…"

Anita looked down at her folded hands as if to find the next words there. Instead, her hands shook as badly as his. A tear fell, then another. She couldn't bring her hands up fast enough to wipe away the tears. "I'm… You've no idea…"

Words failing her miserably, she got up, walked around her desk and threw her arms around the man she thought to be dead, praying he wasn't as dead inside as she feared.

------------

Cassady couldn't believe what she was seeing. She knew this man's guilt and yet here was her boss welcoming this scum like a prodigal son. Cassady contemplated what it would take to get him into an interrogation room to get the confession.

As if fate had heard her, she watched as Van Buren left the room to meet with Green and the citizen. The trio surrounded one of the sketch artists as the woman gave details. Taking advantage of the moment, Cassady entered the office and said to the man, "Let's take a walk, mister."

-------------

"She fought." He stared at a spot on the table, not daring to make eye contact, not daring to look at the concrete walls that surrounded him again. His shoulders slumped forward; he knew the rescue was a dream, even as the distorted part sounded through.

"Then what happened?"

A faint wisp of a smile on his face, the man continued. "She fought hard and managed to grab the knife."

"The knife used to cut her hand open."

He nodded. "She wanted that."

"Right, buddy. Then what happened? The ring was stuffed into her hand, wasn't it?"

Again, he nodded. "To send a message, that was what she wanted."

"I bet. You killed her, didn't you?"

The smile vanished. "I killed her," he said softly. "She died because I killed her."

A piece of paper with a pen on top was placed before him. "Write down everything you just told me."

He squinted, taking a moment to comprehend the command. The command repeated in his ear, "Write down everything you just told me."

He hadn't been permitted to write before. Maybe it was another ploy, or worse, just the beginning to stave off another terror, one that would happen if he ignored the order.

He was pulled up by the shirt collar and thrown against the wall. "Don't think that you're skating off of this, you sick son-of-a-! You're going to write down everything and maybe, just maybe, they'll go easy on you."

Eyes cast to the floor; he searched for the pen, found it, and focused on every detail about it that he could. Another foolish memory to treasure in the darkness, he told himself. He allowed himself to be dropped back into the chair. The other person picked the pen up and pressed it into his hand. The pen felt good, yet overwhelming, bringing back waves of memories of life before… With unsteady hand, he wrote down what he was told.

------------------------

"He's where?!"

"Elsewhere," Cassady said.

Van Buren felt herself seething. She hadn't liked the latest transfers to the 2-7, and she was given a darn good reason why. "Cassady, you've no right-!"

"What about Neela Simmons's rights, huh?" Cassady stood up, careful not to yell at her supervisor. "You knew the evidence was there; he confessed to it; he's down at Riker's."

"Then I suggest you haul yourself down there and get-."

"Rubirosa's already got the paperwork in order. Do you want to tell Branch that you're dropping this one?"

Van Buren walked around her desk, this time not to comfort a hurting man, but remind herself of the dangers of harming a rookie. "In case you hadn't noticed, your suspect is a victim in need of help." She held up a hand daring Cassady to interrupt her again. "So help me I don't rip that badge off of you."

"Why don't I just turn it in and simplify things," she said coolly.

"No way. You are going down there with Detective Fontana and-." Cassady opened her mouth to protest and quickly shut it again. "And you're not coming back here until you've guaranteed that care has been provided. Understood?"

-------------

Green caught up with the two of them as they walked into the courthouse in silence. The man they were after was supposed to have been sent there for arraignment. It was a twisted situation as far as Green was concerned, almost an alternative universe. He was sure that the man would see and appreciate the irony of it had he been fully aware of it.

Knowing the bad luck progressing still, Green would see some inept fool from legal aide fumble the whole proceedings. What he knew of Constance Rubirosa had earned her his admiration and respect. But knowing who was on the other side of the aisle, Rubirosa became a threat Green felt required a strong ally on their side.

Green wasn't aware of the knot in the pit of his stomach, when he heard an all-too-familiar-voice.

Danielle Melnick.

One prayer answered.

The three officers sat down in the back row along the outer aisle. Alex Borgia, Rubirosa's assistant, took her position quietly as it belatedly occurred to Ed that Rubirosa wouldn't handle something like this.

The younger woman presented the charges in a monotone fashion, something that struck Ed for reasons unknown. When questioned about bail, Borgia's answer floored him. "We trust the defendant to be released on his own recognizance, pending he has someone to-."

"I vouch for the defendant, your honor," Melnick said.

Watching Melnick in action put Green in a state of awe, thankful she was on the side he needed her on…

It was then that Ed noticed the space beside Melnick. His eyes darted about the courtroom as prosecutors and defense attorneys traded places, new dockets brought up.

"Danielle!" Before he could stop himself, his hand gripped the shorter woman's arm as she walked past. "Where is he?"

She looked from his eyes to her arm then back again. Not until Ed released her did she answer. "Didn't you know? He's in the infirmary at Riker's. It seems that the guards weren't as 'attentive' as usual last night during a cell brawl."

Before he knew it, they were out in the hallway when Melnick called out to Borgia. "Counselor, if you please…" She took out a folded packet wrapped in blue paper – all too familiar to Ed as something to distain most times. "Motion for dismissal."

Borgia nodded. "I'll forward it to Rubirosa," she said.

Ed felt the electric charge between the E.A.D.A. and the officer beside him. For Cassady's part, stone silence was her response.

"You know we have enough of a case," the assistant said almost disappointed. "The DNA and physical evidence alone…"

"And you should know that the confession won't see the light of day." Melnick gave the other woman a smile that was hard for Ed to read, yet brought back memories of Lennie. "Take care, Alex." To Ed she said, "You, come with me."

Joe Fontana gave a questioning nod. "You got it from here, Green?" he asked. "Good." As they walked away, Ed heard Fontana say to his partner, "Shall we resume that earlier discussion?" Part of him thought the tall Italian would have been his new partner. However, Cassady's transfer at the same time shuffled that, and Ed was relieved and pitied the older man. To have a rookie so green as to jail a victim that quickly…

Ed suppressed the anger he felt for Cassady, reminding himself that he had a report to hear from Melnick as well as a report to give to his own partner.

-------------

Danielle watched Detective Green as he took in her unconscious client's appearance. Part of her admitted that seeing the beard and mustache seemed foreign to the familiar face underneath. Another part of her seethed over the scars– both new and old - she saw covering his body. She didn't have the heart to tell Ed that the guards responsible were a couple of idiots that still held a grudge from a case that happened years ago. She told him know that one of the prisoners spoke up to put a stop to it. Now it was a matter of getting the prisoner's parole officer or someone in the DA's office to get the prisoner to safety.

"Coronado said he didn't put up any form of a fight, he just fell into it with his arms to his sides," Danielle said, leaning against the wall. "Opened that earlier wound there on the neck, broke or fractured a few ribs and definitely crushed his left hand."

Green shook his head as he gingerly picked up the injured hand, noting the burned fingertips as he examined both hands. "Can't we get him out of here? He doesn't deserve this."

She smiled. "I'm working on that. In the meantime, we need a place for him to stay."

"I could take him-."

Danielle shook her head. "I've a 'safe' house in mind."


	3. Delivery

Disclaimer: None of the regular characters belong to the author, borrowing from the World of Wolf. The original characters are of my creation, not intending to resemble known folks living or dead.

Chapter 3 – Delivery

Lennie Briscoe, semi-retired, part-time employee to the D.A.'s office, opened his apartment door excited to see one familiar face, and surprised by another. "Had I known you were coming, I would have picked up the place a bit," he said as he motioned them in. Seeing the third person Ed carried in froze Lennie for a moment. 

Jack McCoy.

"Over here," he said, shoving the contents off the couch with one swoop of his arm. "What the hell happened?"

Diane grabbed a blanket from the back of the armchair as Ed lay him down carefully, then covered Jack with it. "You may want to sit down for the abridged version," she said.

"Ed, why didn't you call me?" Lennie said, hoping his voice didn't sound harsh. He went into the other room and grabbed sodas from the fridge for both of them.

"I don't know," Ed said as he fell into the arm chair, elbows on his knees, steepled fingers propping his chin. "It's all happening so fast."

Lennie put a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, giving it a quick shake. "At least it didn't turn out as a 'worse-case scenario,' eh, buddy?" he said. He wasn't about to admit that his heart wasn't fully into a chance of recovery of McCoy. But, seeing the thinner form of the man who was, in a way, his equal, was a relief.

"Thanks, Lennie," Danielle said, holding up the root beer. "Sure you don't want to sit down?" she asked as she lifted Jack's head so she could sit down, and then placed his head on her lap. "I really think you sh-."

"Got it, counselor," he said as he sat on the corner of the coffee table. His small apartment was beginning to feel smaller.

Between the details Ed provided leading to Jack's 'found and lost' experience and what Danielle had learned in the short time with the 'idiotic' charges, Lennie wished he had something stronger to drink.

As soon as they finished their stories, Lennie asked Ed to help him move Jack into the bedroom. Danielle gave him a quizzical look. "Don't get me wrong, but this couch is really lousy to sleep on," he said.

"And where are you going to sleep," she asked.

"On the couch," he said as a matter-of-fact. "You're leaving him here," he said, not as a suggestion.

Ed nodded slowly and Danielle had a look of relief on her face. Lennie studied his former partner and hadn't realized just how much the younger man had aged in that short year. "Are you alright enough to drive home, Ed?" he asked.

"I'll get him home," Danielle said. "You're a saint, Lennie, do you know that?"

He shook his head. Had that been true, he would have been there one-hundred percent for Ed to the very end. Had that been true, Danielle wouldn't have had to rise to the defense for Jack. "If you need anything else from me, call me, you got it?" he stressed that last part to Ed, who looked like he could use a good night's sleep. He hoped the younger man wouldn't take an escapist approach and split to Atlantic City or worse.

"Keep me informed," he told them both as they stepped out the door.

After he locked the door behind him, Lennie went into the bedroom, leaned his back against the doorframe and looked at Jack McCoy. They had bantered back and forth, positively, angrily, allies in the same battle, for years. And now he saw a shell of that man, wondering how bad the demons were that tormented him still.

-------------

Jack started out of a troubling sleep, unsure of where he was or when it was. There was a faint light on one side of the room, sounds he had to readjust to along with it. Turning his head to one side, he saw a thin bit of light under the door, and noted the slight creak of the bed springs. Tensing, he lowered himself unto the floor, hands shaking.

Out of conditioned habit, he curled up into a tight ball and rocked himself back and forth, acknowledging more aches and pains that he probably earned for not paying attention.

----------

Lennie put down the book he was reading and went to the bedroom, leaning his ear against the door. He thought he heard something, or someone, fall to the floor, but he wasn't sure. Slowly, he turned the knob and entered the dark room. Seeing the empty bed stopped him.

"Jack?" He checked under the bed and saw nothing. He found Jack in a fetal position in the corner, terrified and yet…

Lennie sat down beside him, his back to the wall, and then brought his knees up to his chest. "Hey, buddy," he said, one hand firmly yet gently squeezing his shoulder, "you're safe now. No one's going to hurt you. I promise you that." It amazed him how much the other man trembled and just as suddenly stopped.

Lennie rubbed Jack's back as he debated whether or not to say anything more. He noted that Jack's eyes were open, looking at nothing in particular. Resignation to the worst case scenario - that's how Lennie described the emotion behind the once sharp eyes. Somehow, that was just wrong. Taking his hand away, not knowing why, Lennie watched what happened next.

Jack's mouth moved, but Lennie barely heard a sound. Laying down so his head was close to Jack's he made out a word or two. Lennie held his breath as the list came out in a whisper. When a pause finally came, Lennie pulled down a blanket from the bed, covered Jack with it and waited.

The rambling began again and this time, Lennie made a mental note of it. As soon as he was certain Jack was indeed sleeping, Lennie went into the kitchen and wrote it all down. Gut feeling, he believed that somehow it was just the beginning.

---------

Jack sat in the corner and waited. This room wasn't familiar to him and he wasn't certain what to do. He felt foolish and guilty for letting his mind wander toward a so-called rescue. Part of him thought he heard the solid, reliable, graveled voice of Lennie Briscoe. Of the people Jack knew from his working life, it would be Lennie that he'd trust in and hope for. He knew that Lennie was a strong person and that somehow, Jack could find strength in that.

But all of it was a dream, a part of his pathetic madness in staying sane. He knew that his captor wouldn't set him free. Jack knew he had given his soul up to this devil because… Because…

It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now.

The door opened and Jack tensed up.

He had to be hallucinating. To see Lennie before him, three cups in hand, Jack knew he had stepped over the edge.

"How are you doing, Jack?" he said as he set two of the cups on a chair and pulled the chair over.

'It's not real,' Jack told himself. If he didn't say Briscoe's name aloud, then the detective was safe. Of course, his captor knew of him from the original arrest, but still…

"Somehow," Lennie said, whipping or mixing something up in one of the cups, "I doubt you slept much last night." He paused, handing a cup of coffee to Jack, who took it and relished the warmth. "Thought, perhaps you'd like something hot to drink, eh?"

Jack let the steam warm his face as the cup burned his fingers. Lennie tried to adjust it, forcing Jack to take the handle, but he won. Maybe he could burn the delusion out – or in, he wasn't sure which. Lennie gave up and reached for a straight-edge razor from his shirt pocket. Terrified, Jack dropped the cup of coffee, ignoring the splash-back that scalded his legs.

"Whoa – hold on!" Lennie said as he held one hand up, the other using the blanket as a towel to wipe up the mess. "I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry. I've got an electric one, all right?" He held up his hand as if to say 'Wait here,' and vanished for a moment. He returned with a cordless razor and handed it to Jack. "Here you go," he said with an apologetic smile.

Jack stared at it, wondering how far he wanted to dwell in this fantasy. In all honesty, he wasn't a fan of beards, a few early memories of his father when he wasn't on the force, yet learned to deal with the one he had. But Lennie had his interest at heart, wanting Jack to feel more… normal. He wanted that so desperately, too, and if freeing himself of the cursed beard would be allowed, he'd do it.

"I could help you if you want, but, you know…" Lennie said. "Of course, I could just keep on talking, too…"

Jack wanted that, for Lennie to keep talking, finding a sense of center somehow, even if it was within a delusion. He felt childish and helpless, but knew he was so needy at this point. Slowly, Jack nodded his head, hoping Lennie would understand.

Thankfully, he did.

----

Lennie sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Jack operated the razor. Instinctively, he knew the beard had to go, not because it was offensive or odd to others but to the owner. Jack's hands didn't shake as much. Nevertheless, Lennie was glad that it wasn't the straight edge in the other man's hand.

When Jack had finally finished, Lennie returned all of the supplies to their original places. The man he saw in the corner was now a shadow of the Jack he knew: clean-shaven, slightly longer hair than usual – parted on the other side now the Lennie noticed – and a sad hollow to the cheeks that only highlighted the eyes lit with half the spirit they should have possessed.

"Want to eat some breakfast? Not a whole lot to offer, I'm afraid, but I've got the basics."

Jack nodded slowly as he tried to push himself up off the floor. Lennie offered an arm for support, making a note not to be offended if the once-independently-stubborn man declined it. It surprised Lennie when Jack took it. The pressure wasn't too heavy, but then again, Jack was light.

Across the small table, Lennie watched as Jack nibbled at the piece of toast, eyes downward. Lennie wasn't about to push him to talk. If it was all for Jack to not spend a day curled up in a fetal position in fear, then Lennie would see to that. One thing at a time - that was Lennie's plan.

"You know," he said, deciding that silence might not be best for Jack right now, "my daughter just told me the other day that she's seeing this schmuck of a guy and that she thinks he's worth marrying. At least she had the decency to warn me, eh? Of course, I would have liked to have met the idiot first, to confirm my suspicions, you know."

He kept prattling as he filled in a few crossword puzzles from a book, looking up every now end then to see Jack steal a glance or two. Part of him noticed Jack's interest piqued at the mention of family. Lennie remembered that Jack had an estranged daughter, about Catherine's age. Had to make a few phone calls to find her, he decided.

"You can tell me to shut up any time, too, you know," he said chuckling. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much more he could talk about without coming too close to something else potentially painful.

The toast finished for the most part - Lennie was amused to see Jack tuck a small piece into his sleeve then quickly cross his arms to better hide it -, Lennie gave a word search book to him along with a pencil. "See if that helps you take your mind off things," he said. After a while, Lennie put the pencil in Jack's hand, nodding to him that it was all right.

Ever so slowly, Lennie heard the soft scrapping sound of pencil to paper, as each word was found amongst the jumble.

------------


	4. Despondency

Disclaimer: None of the regular characters belong to the author, borrowing from the World of Wolf. The original characters are of my creation, not intending to resemble known folks living or dead.

Chapter 4 - Despondency

"I need to see the lieutenant," Wendy Douglas said, walking past a couple of officers who tried to stop her. "I need to see Van Buren, now!" Detective Logan stood up, waving off the others who were about to restrain her. She felt safe now.

"I…I have something that she needs to…"

Detective Logan held out his hand. "I'll give it to her."

Wendy shook her head. What she had she wanted to be sure that Van Buren would get. She chided herself for waiting so long to get rid of it while another part of her tried really hard to watch it. She couldn't do it. But, someone had to, and she felt certain Van Buren would know who'd be best.

"Please," she said. "I need for her to-."

Van Buren stepped out of her office, gesturing for Wendy to enter.

"Ms. Douglas, why don't you tell me what this is about," Van Buren said offering her a seat.

Wendy took a deep breath. It was now or never and she knew she had to do it, had to do it for John. "I need you to give this to the strongest detective you have." She took out two video cassettes, blank of any labels. "I've tried, hoping to help somehow and…"

Van Buren took the tapes, not looking away from her. "Does this have something to do with Mr. McCoy?" she asked.

Wendy nodded. "Yes. I can't believe they tried to press charges against John. I mean is that how the courts have always operated? I mean, he's a victim here and-!"

Van Buren didn't say anything right away, something Wendy appreciated. "John saved my life that day, Lieutenant. He kept that animal from slicing my throat. I thought I had done the same – save him, I mean. But it wasn't enough, not in time."

At this point, Van Buren placed a hand over Wendy's. "Whatever is on this tape, I'm sure will be helpful to him," she said. "May I ask why you want the 'strongest' detective to look at this? I mean," she gestured to the man Wendy had passed, "Detective Logan-."

Wendy shook her head vehemently. "It has to be one who can handle…handle what…" Wendy struggled not to cry, afraid she couldn't voice what little she had seen, angry that she couldn't be tougher for John. "I can't tell you," she said finally. "I trust you …," she said.

----

Van Buren dropped the two tapes on Fontana's desk. "You've got an assignment," she told him. "Think of it as 'just the facts,' all right?"

Fontana looked up at his supervisor, not entirely certain where he stood with her now, thanks to his partner. The fact that Cassady wasn't suspended was obviously a good sign. Not that he was in good standing with the new A.D.A, either, but he didn't care.

He caught an inquisitive look from Logan as Van Buren continued talking. Whatever it was that Joe had, he was sure Logan would have preferred to possess instead. It was odd in a way, Fontana thought as he watched Green sit down across from Logan, diverting the other man's attention away. In a million years, Fontana never would have imagined that he'd 'silently' keep watch over 'Lennie's boys.' It was a quiet understanding between the older men, something neither the younger detectives nor Van Buren knew about – a personal favor done for a good friend.

He knew that in the end, justice would be served.

Little did he know how much of a personal cost it would be to him.

----

Joe had seen many horrible things over the years on the force, but none of it prepared him for what he watched on the eight-hour tape. Even in black and white, the images burned into his mind in color, the sounds recorded in his memory for quite some time. The first segment alone hit him hard in the stomach, not only for the brutality of the fight for freedom, but for the shame that he felt. It put the entire transcript of the interrogation with Jack McCoy in a whole new light.

McCoy had told the truth, and from this new point of view, Joe knew he had his work cut out for him in correcting McCoy's perception. The admiration for Neela Simmons's strength gave McCoy some renewed hope, Joe noticed. But, that was short lived, as the blood flowed, red in Joe's eyes. He wondered what the best way was in telling McCoy that Neela had succeeded, in a matter of speaking.

He couldn't attempt to identify any of the perpetrators, given they all wore masks. The coldness of the murders… so coolly, so calmly, so coldly, a knife or ice pick plunged into each woman's chest as McCoy, tied to a chair, was forced to watch. The masked men had it down to an almost sickening dance, smiling at their screaming captive. How was it possible for so many girls to go missing and an alarm not sound to create a task force, he wondered?

Then again, he knew the ugly truth. Most of them were either prostitutes, drug addicts or both. Since most of those young women had fallen through the system to get to that low point in their lives, who would seriously continue or even think to look for them once they went missing from the street?

The last girl, however, didn't belong and he knew it. So did McCoy.

It tore Joe's heart out to watch what took place even as the tape ended in static. If this was only one tape, recording only one part of a day in one room, he thought, how much worse could the rest of that missing year have been?

He stared at the second tape on the table, knew he had to watch it, wanting to grab his gym bag instead. As much as he laughed at the idea of twenty-four hour gyms, he had on occasion used the facility when he got off of work. The clock read past midnight and tonight, he was thankful for the boxing room they had.

--------------

"You look like hell, man," Logan said as he set down some files on his partner's desk.

Green nodded almost apologetically. "Went to see someone," he said.

Mike didn't have to ask whom. As foolish as it was, he felt a pang of jealousy that his former mentor, partner and friend hadn't exactly opened the door wide for him to visit. Then again, he wasn't as vested in this search as Green was. It wasn't much of an excuse, but it would do, Mike decided.

He debated whether or not it was worth mentioning the Douglas woman's visit earlier then thought better of it. If the item in question was handed off to Fontana instead of him, Lieu had her reasons and he wasn't about to become her second target of foolish choices anytime soon.

When he returned to the 2-7, he hadn't realized that it would mean taking Lennie's place. It was interesting working with Green at first, both men comparing their 'Briscoe' stories, learning and knowing that the 'Briscoe' of then was the same as now, and was still. They had their work and beliefs in common to discuss - until the obsession of the case kicked in. Mike lost count of the number of times he'd cover Green's back. Had he been that problematic for Lennie, or any of his other partners?

"How's he doing?" he asked finally.

"Terrible. Lennie's taking him to see Skoda today."

Mike nodded. "That's good, sort of. Thought I heard Melnick mention he was ordered to see Olivet."

Green looked up, possibly pale. "What for?"

"Part of the deal. Either Olivet finds something to prove that McCoy's really insane or sane enough to help solve the case." Mike had to relieve the tension. "You know, either way and when all's said and done, I'm sure he'll need a shrink about his sessions with the shrinks." That got him the small smile he was after. "Now, how about giving me a hand with this stuff, huh?"

---------

Jack stood by the window and stared out onto the traffic below. He knew it wasn't a delusion, but he wasn't entirely vested in this new reality. He knew what was expected of him, but didn't know how to begin. He wondered if he could get away with not saying anything – just for today.

Emil Skoda sat in the armchair close to the window, hands folded before him, and waited. Unlike Lennie, Skoda made it a point to get as much information as possible before the first visit. It had surprised him that the former detective called to set up an appointment. Skoda would have assumed that Elizabeth Olivet would have been called for this, considering the patient knew her longer.

Then again, it could have been a 'guy' thing. From the reports he read of what happened at Rikers, Skoda could only assume some very dark tales to come, if and when Jack chose to speak. The assault there alone would be scarring. However, the hints of what happened with the known murder shortly after Jack's disappearance and the rest of the 'unknown' of that year were Skoda's primary concern.

In the meantime, the only thing the doctor could do was watch the man before him watch the scene outside the window, a look of disbelief and fear in his eyes, arms crossed as the sun shone on him. It looked as if the other man wasn't even breathing, but Skoda knew otherwise. He saw the signs of a captive frozen in place in an attempt to avoid punishment.

After a while, Jack's lips moved soundlessly, subtly. Skoda squinted as he lip-read, carefully writing down everything Jack 'said.' Jack then took a couple of deep breaths, letting each one out slowly before saying softly, 'Save them. Please?'

Skoda sat up, careful not to break the spell. According to Lennie, Jack hadn't said a word since the arrest a couple of days ago. "Save whom?"

This time, Jack trembled as his hands fell together, struggling to make a single, steady fist. "Save them." Hands still shaking, he took the pencil and paper from Skoda, wrote down a list of names, pointing at it as he gave it back to Skoda and repeated, "Save them, please?"

Skoda looked at the list and saw that it didn't match anything he wrote down earlier. Looking back up at Jack, he saw the tears streaming down his face as he returned to stand by the window, arms crossed, hands trembling.

The rest of the hour passed in silence.


	5. Enlisted

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 5 - Enlisted

Logan stared at the list of the names Van Buren gave him. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Find me an address," she said.

He and Green exchanged looks. "And then what?" he asked.

"Get back to me with the answer. Thanks," she said.

Green took the slip from Logan's hand. "I can check the database." He copied the list into his notebook then returned the paper to Logan. "Think it's something worth calling in some favors for?"

"Only if we have a better idea of which ones to cash in," Logan said. Green had talked more, had relaxed more in recent days and that in turn let Mike relax a bit. If he was finally seeing the true Green…

A couple of hours later, the two men not only had an address, but a laundry list of complaints recorded for the location. Logan decided to put a call into the SVU team since they had filed the last incident report. "Hey, Benson, Logan here. Curious, what do you know about the Reardon family?"

--------

Olivia Benson handed the folder back to Eliot Stabler before they set off to enter the house. Something nagged at her, as if this particular case would turn into something larger than just the child abuse they had dealt with too many times before.

She hadn't expected a call from Mike Logan that afternoon, but it was a nice diversion from the usual routines that the team had. She heard through the rumor mill that McCoy had been found.

During the interview, Stabler kept his calm as Benson walked with the social services rep to remove the children from the home. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that he pocketed a photograph along with his notebook.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Can you believe they've an older girl that they've never bothered reported missing until now? She's the one who usually protects the other kids. Girl's been missing for over a year. This guy thought his ex-wife had her, and she says she thought he had her."

"And they've just now noticed?" Benson asked incredulously. "I'm surprised CPS hadn't cleared these kids outta here sooner," she said. "Gonna let me have a copy of that to send to Logan at the 2-7?"

He nodded. "Why?"

"To return the favor," she said.

----

Green walked back from Fontana's desk, holding an envelope. "His cousin's got a place you can stay at to get your feet in the sand," he said. "Think you've been talking to him about my vacation time, partner." It was then that he noticed the photo. "Who's the girl?"

"If it takes two of us to force you out, then so be it," Logan said. He gave the photo to Green. "This kid wasn't on that list and the folks said she's been missing."

"I don't remember a missing report about-."

"There wasn't one," Mike said. He turned to see Fontana standing behind him, muttering something. "What's that?" Mike said.

"I said, 'She's dead.'"

Both men stared at the Italian as if he had lost his mind.

"How do you know?" Logan asked.

He wasn't buying the delaying pause that Joe offered before saying, "A hunch."

------------

Emil Skoda took his place in the armchair as Jack leaned against the window frame. It was raining today and Emil found it interesting how the other man put a hand to the glass and kept it there for a while.

"They saved them," Skoda said at last.

Jack nodded slowly and whispered, "Good."

Skoda knew this was the first layer he'd have to pry from his patient, to use as a scaffold for the sharing. "Tell me, Jack, how did you know about them?"

Instead of answering, he turned around to go to the bookcase and study the knickknacks that Skoda kept there. After an affirmative nod of permission from Skoda, Jack picked up a plain, white porcelain sculpture of a parent and child. As he cradled it in his arms, Jack slid down the wall to sit cross-legged on the floor. Ever so slowly, he rocked back and forth, sculpture secured in the crook of one arm as the other moved up and down in a caressing fashion.

Skoda hadn't realized just how much damage had been done to the left hand as he knelt down to better read Jack's lips. It turned out to be a 'hushing' sound, intermixed with a barely audible 'Hang on.' Tears streaked Jack's face as he tightened his hold. The silent sobs shook his body.

To break the spell or not, Skoda debated. If he let Jack set the pace of the recovery, that would give the recovering victim some control. However, without a 'lifeline' to pull him through, how long would he remain there, in limbo or wherever state he placed himself? He sat down in front of Jack and placed a hand over the wounded one, asking, "What happened, Jack?"

Blurry eyes looked up, filled with so much pain and anguish, that Skoda almost regretted the question.

"I couldn't protect her," Jack said at last. "I should have been able to protect her better, should have kept her safer." He stopped long enough to take a deep breath before letting it out slowly, almost in time to the rocking still. "Sasha didn't deserve to… They promised they wouldn't…and yet…" He held out his arm then pulled back his sleeve, showing Skoda a scar. "I should have stopped it."

Both arms folded back into place, cradling the nonexistent person that Skoda could only assume was now Sasha Reardon. "What happened, Jack?" he asked again. If he could push Jack into full closure on this chapter, then perhaps the ability would be there in disclosure and healing. He suspected there were several details missing in this particular story, however, a start was a start.

"She died," he whispered. "She died in my arms and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

----

Logan cornered Fontana by the soda machine in the hallway. "About that Reardon kid, what did you mean by that?"

Fontana turned, face emotionless. "What do you mean?"

"Don't jerk me around, Joe. I'm not Ed. I don't need you to shield me from the McCoy case."

"How do you know it deals with McCoy?"

"You didn't say it didn't," Mike countered. "Look, I know Lieu is keeping Green on track now that Jack's back, but, if what I've got has something to do with what you got, then…"

Fontana leaned against the wall, surveying both directions for either of their junior partners. "Yeah, I got something. I don't know if you could handle it. I want to say that Tutuola might, definitely Munch, but…"

"You saying I'm weak, Joe? I know you're not saying that."

Fontana nodded. "Well, it's not that exactly, it's just…" He took a deep breath then said, "Sasha's murder is on tape."

This time, Logan said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"McCoy was there, probably heard her last words, that's how I think we got the tip regarding her siblings. How many were there?"

Logan shook his head. "Four kids under ten – two boys and two girls. They're all convinced that she's coming back, like their older brother."

"Damn. Leave it to kids doing the parenting. Is the older kid still alive?"

"Maybe," Logan said. "Benson and Stabler are tracking him down." He paused before asking. "How did she…?"

Fontana looked at the floor then answered, "I'm not going to say. However, assuming you don't have kids, there's something I'll show you, hoping Van Buren doesn't have my head for it."

Fontana walked back to his desk, motioning Logan to follow. Neither junior partner still in sight, Fontana opened the bottom desk drawer, took out a manila envelope then handed it to Logan. "Now, remember, Cassady and I are still trying to figure out this arson deal and our leads are about as numerous as yours – meaning zero. This tape might offer a clue to what was special about that building." He paused. "It doesn't look good. If you tell the Lieutenant that I gave that to you, I'll deny it and tell her you took it out of my desk."

"Thanks," Logan said. "You're going to keep me in the loop, right?"

"Of course," Fontana said. "Until it knots."

----

Skoda held Jack until the other man was perfectly still. The story told had drained his patient entirely and had left Skoda with a heavy heart. While the psychiatrist didn't know how much time Jack and Sasha had spent together, he knew now that it was definitely a lifetime. The vivid details of the girl's final moments were the most excruciating.

He was thankful that his secretary knew the cues and had kept Briscoe in the waiting room for the additional time. How long that was, Skoda wasn't sure. He was, however, thankful that the calendar was clear of any afternoon appointments. Speaking of appointments, he thought it best to see Jack on a daily basis if possible. Goodness knew they had a lot of work to do.

Lennie rose the moment the door opened. "What happened? How is he?"

"He's…resting," Skoda said, carefully closing the door after his secretary entered the room. He motioned Lennie to have a seat, something that didn't make Lennie feel all at ease. "We made a breakthrough, sort of."

"Look, Doc, if it's a matter of doctor/patient -."

Skoda shook his head. "It's going to be rough for him."

Lennie scoffed. "You went to school for that? I could have told you that for a club soda." He hadn't meant to snap at the psychiatrist. However, helplessness wasn't one of Lennie's strong suits. To be left waiting on the other side of the door for an extra couple of hours only worried him more than angered him.

"Has he said anything to you since our last visit?"

Here, Lennie bit his tongue. If he had asked Skoda the same question, it would have been a definite 'no' for an answer. "He's only repeated the same list he whispered the first night." Since they were first names only, Lennie had very little to go on. Needlessly, Lennie took out a well-worn piece of paper and handed it to the shrink.

"Neela, Cherry, Maggie, Nancy, Chrissy, Daisy, Annie…," Lennie had the list memorized, looking Skoda in the eye when he got to the end. "…And Sasha," he said. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unknown and the tightness of impending dread that there was more to come. "Twenty-one names in all, Doc," he said. "Once he gets to Sasha, he collapses. Hell, I feel like that and I'm only saying the names aloud."

There was a minor flicker in Skoda's eye, something for Lennie to pounce on. "What do you know of the list?"

"He discussed Sasha Reardon today."

Lennie nodded. Instinct. He already knew that Neela referred to the first victim, the one Jack erroneously confessed to killing. "So, if there's any particular pattern here, Doc, then you just might be meeting Miss Cherry next."

"Do you think they've all been murdered?" Skoda asked.

Again, Lennie nodded. "Will we learn of each and every one? If they've survived in Jack's memory all this time, then, yeah, we will."

----------------

Elizabeth Olivet looked at Jack McCoy as he sat in silence, again, eyes darting from one desk corner to the other, arms wrapped around his waist. He covered his left hand with his right elbow and rocked slightly.

She couldn't give Connie Rubirosa an answer one way or another as to Jack's sanity. He hadn't provided evidence with this constant silence and at this rate, Elizabeth was about to declare him insane just to get him the help that he needed. Before, he'd confide in her some of his fears and worries. The only time he held back was after watching the execution. Weeks went by before he called her and made a partial confession of what he was really thinking, of how it was his fault that Claire Kincaid had died.

Elizabeth could wait out the stubborn Irishman if pressure from the prosecution and defense didn't exist. But, they did and she had to push him because it was for his own good.

"Jack, what happened regarding Neela Simmons?"

He said nothing.

"How did she die, Jack?"

He got up and walked to the far side of the room, arms still folded. "You need to tell them if I'm crazy or not?" he said at last. "That's why I'm here, right?"

"Jack, you're here because I want to help you."

He nodded his head slowly. "They all say that," he said, voice still not louder than a whisper.

"In all of the years we've known each other and worked together, have I lied to you, Jack?"

He shook his head, right hand brushing softly over the leaves of a plant by the window.

"Then help me help you, Jack. Please." She rose to go to him. When she tried to put an arm around his shoulder, he moved away, eyes never making contact with hers either as he put his back to the wall. "We've been meeting for quite some time and you've-."

"Please," he said, glancing briefly at her, "don't…" Moving away from her again, he said, "I want to talk to my daughter."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, let it out slowly then hit him with the truth. "That's not what we're here to discuss." She regretted it the moment the words were out of her mouth, especially since this was the first time he said something on his own.

"Please," he slid down to the floor, arms crossed, and cried. "I want to talk to my daughter. I don't know how. You're a daughter. You'd know how… I want to talk to her. I can't."

She knew what he was asking for and wanted him to say it specifically. "Do you want me to call for her? Do you want to talk to her on the phone?"

He shook his head. "I want to see her. I need to, yet… Help me, please?"

She knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. "Jack," she struggled not to let tears roll down her face. "It's going to hurt, but if this is what you need to heal, I'll help."

He leaned his head forward, and whispered, "Please…."

She pushed passed his plea, leaned forward and hugged him.


	6. Enticed

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 6 - Enticed

Lennie watched Jack as the conversations continued around the corner table of Luigi's restaurant. He was surprised by a few things: who showed up and who didn't, and the fact that Jack had seemed interested in the various topics that weren't work related. True, Jack added nothing to the discussions, but the fact that he agreed to get out with Lennie was a major step.

The dishes arrived in a timely fashion, not that Lennie was in a hurry. Almost everyone ordered a pasta dish with steak – either raw or medium rare. Jack picked at the salad before him, not looking up at the others this time. Lennie scanned around the table to see the reactions. Tutuola, Stabler, and Mike tore into their meals with a flourish. Benson and Munch watched Jack for a moment, forcing Lennie to look at him, too.

Jack's right hand shook as he tried to keep the salad on his fork, eyes not daring to go toward any of the others' plates. His mouth trembled as if he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn't. Benson, bless her soul, started the next round of conversations.

Lennie knew it was too much to hope for, Jack speaking to someone other than himself or Skoda. Lennie knew it was too much to hope that the meal would finish without difficulty.

"Excuse me," Jack whispered to Mike as he practically ran out of the restaurant. Lennie got up and went after him, aware of Mike on his heels.

They didn't catch up with him until they were practically in the alleyway. Jack shrunk down to the ground, hands shaking violently on their way up to his face. He pressed the heels of his hands firmly against his eyes and swayed back and forth.

"You all right, buddy?" Mike asked as he knelt down beside him, a firm hand on the other man's shoulder. "Jack?"

Lennie let out a heavy sigh as he held up a hand to hold back Munch. Munch ignored him and nudged Mike to move aside.

"Sorry about that," Munch said. "Had I been thinking, I should have warned the others." He held out a Styrofoam box. "Here's your dinner. I added some protein to it because I doubt you're still eating enough of that."

Jack shook his head as he brought his hands down. "I- I'm sorry to ruin your dinner."

"Nonsense," Lennie said pulling Jack up by one arm, Mike pulling the other. "We'll call it a night. I'll get a cab and-."

Jack shook his head. "No. You should stay, enjoy your friends. I can get home by myself. I know the way."

Before Lennie could protest, Mike spoke up. "I'll see that he gets home and I'll come right back, Lennie. Trust me."

Munch added, "You can keep me company a bit before we go back. Besides, I need a smoke."

Lennie gave him a look. "You don't smoke."

"So, keep me company while I don't smoke, then."

That brought a smile to Jack's face, which in turn brought a smile from Mike. "Come on, Jack. Let's leave these old fogies to their non-stogies."

As soon as the cab left, Lennie turned to Munch. "What gives?"

Munch chose his words carefully. "Tonight's dinner selections were a bit…graphic…given what's happened."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Lennie asked.

"Spaghetti and red sauce, raw meat…That's not exactly appetizing if you've seen a lot of murder."

Lennie nodded understandingly. "I wasn't even thinking."

"How would you know?" Munch asked. "I did and I still goofed." Munch was glad to have his sunglasses on so as not to give away his emotions. Lennie, on the other hand, could have burned a hole through those glasses with the look in his eyes.

"Let's just say, I've had access to a couple of tapes that are rather telling. It's why I told Rubirosa to back off."

Lennie leaned back against the brick wall, not caring that the others were probably wondering where half the party went. "I'm listening."

Munch shook his head. "Lennie, I'd have told you anything I thought you needed or wanted to know. Given what you're doing with McCoy, the less you knew the better to get him to talk, I figured."

"So, how many on your team have seen these tapes?"

"Just me, Lennie. Fin goes by gut instinct and I think he knows what we're dealing with. Benson's tracking down the names of some of the girls we've got from our M.E.." Munch tugged on Lennie's arm wanting to get in from out of the cold. "We're going to get these bastards, believe me."

----

"We're going to get those bastards," Mike said as he unlocked the door to Lennie's apartment.

Jack said nothing as he set the container on the table then sat down.

Mike sat down on the couch beside him. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. We should have gone to…some Japanese restaurant instead."

"Lennie eating raw fish?" Jack said with a wry look on his face.

Mike grinned at the sight of the image. "Ri-i-ight. That's wrong. Well, anyway…yeah, we should have gone elsewhere."

"I should be elsewhere," Jack said softly.

One step forward, three steps back, Mike thought. He didn't want to admit to watching the tapes he wrestled from Fontana, nor admit to sidestepping Green in his search for Mark Bruner, the only identifiable face on one of the tapes, the serial killer Jack had prosecuted only a couple of years ago. Mike thought back to how Ed described the interrogation session with the perp. Somehow, Ed didn't seem like a man who rattled easily.

"Hey," Mike said, returning to the present mission at hand. "You went out to dinner, smiled at a couple of jokes. I think that's pretty good, wouldn't you? I mean, that's something to brag to either Skoda or Olivet about."

He could only imagine how painful those sessions had to be, recalling his mandatory meetings with Elizabeth. Not that she was terrible to talk to; he just hated the 'ordered' topics to 'share'. He thought about asking McCoy about those sessions then changed his mind.

"I could use your help in figuring out whom I'm trying to find," Mike said. "I can see their faces sometimes, but I don't know their names." He watched McCoy as he continued. "I bet you know both names and faces quite well. Maybe between the two of us, we can help some families gain closure."

Jack nodded slowly. "Bruner didn't allow that last time."

"And that's how we're going to fight back and win - us Irish. What do you say? I could call for a sketch artist or you could help me put names to some pictures."

Jack shook his head. "They're mad at me."

"Who? The others? Don't' worry about them. You remember how stressful the job gets – the determination to close a case. Ignore them. They don't know what you've been through."

"I can't… It's hard…"

"I'd be surprised if it was an easy story to tell, Jack. Hell, I'm only aware-. We Irish don't give up, do we? Not with our ire!"

Jack smiled then frowned. "We don't give up."

"We'll get him, Jack. We'll get them all and help the others rest in peace. Trust me."

--------

"Trust me," Olivia Benson said as she waited with Lennie as he hailed a cab. "It might be just the thing he needs. The fact that you guys found her, that's something."

"The fact that she even came out here, that's something," Lennie said. "If you guys see Mike anytime soon, tell him I'm going to beat the crap out of him for not listening, all right?"

Olivia chuckled. "He learned that from his partner, I'm sure. Get going. She's waiting for you."

As soon as he left, Eliot stepped forward. "Who is waiting for him, a hot date?"

"You're such a jerk, Eliot," she said elbowing him in the stomach. "And what you said at dinner didn't help matters either."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Liv! I made a couple of jokes about Jack's queasiness and you're gonna be ticked off at me all night now?"

Olivia shook her head as she turned around and walked backwards to catch up with Fin. "Whatever's eating you about this, Eliot, you better figure it out and figure it out soon."

John walked with Eliot as their partners lengthened the distance. "She's right, you know. You've been fuming about McCoy's part in this almost as badly as Rubirosa and Cassady have."

"Great, John. Take the perv's side. Just what I need now, my teammates turning against me."

This time John grunted. "Spend a year in the victim's shoes and see if you don't find yourself wondering the same thing," he said. "I don't know how many times I can tell you this, but Jack didn't rape that girl."

"Yes! Yes, he did! The fact that you and Fin are buying the excuse that he was forced to… Never mind. I'll just be on my way and you guys can stay out of it, got it?"

John muttered a good-bye in Eliot's direction, not caring if the other man heard him or not. The fact that the driven detective was such a mad dog about the Simmons case made John wonder how much worse the reaction would be if Eliot knew about the Reardon case.

----

"He's asleep in the other room," Mike said, closing the front door behind Lennie and taking the box the older man offered.

"And you're aiming for a full house, I see," Lennie said, nodding a greeting to Ed who was sitting at the kitchen table. "Where were you?"

Mike and Ed exchanged glances, uncertain who was suppose to answer. "I wasn't going to leave him here by himself," Mike said. "Besides, Ed came over and I wasn't going to not let him in and-."

"I was talking with Alex about the Bruner case," Ed said. "Since Rubirosa and I don't get along so well at the moment, Alex seemed a safe bet to include in the loop."

Lennie shook his head. "I'm glad I'm not around to see how many aspirins Van Buren's taking on account of you two."

"Look," Ed said as he continued the card game he and Mike had been playing, "Alex has access to things we don't - things that might help the Fugitives Task Force."

Mike watched Lennie as he took the remaining seat at the table. "You guys be careful with what you're doing, all right?" Lennie said. "Neither of you are near pension stage yet and add to that the fact you're both too old to start something new."

"Speak for yourself," Mike said with mock indignation. "I can go and become a … politician if I wanted to."

"I'd shoot you first," Lennie deadpanned.

Ed chuckled. "Man, retirement's gotten to you bad."

"Wait 'til you boys get there then laugh if you dare."

The silence of the card game unnerved Lennie, forcing him to get up and go to the bedroom door. Nothing. "How'd you do it, Mike? I'm lucky if he sleeps soundly on the sofa."

"Warm milk laced with scotch," Mike said. Based on the paled yet angry look on his friend's face, he said, "Seriously, we just moved a bunch of blankets to the floor. Well, that and the constant reassurance that you'd be here when he woke up."

"Is he making progress with either shrink?" Ed asked. "And is there any way for us to tell?"

Lennie remained silent for a moment. "I'm taking McCoy's daughter to the session with Olivet. See if that might help."

"Wait a minute," Mike said. "She's here? When? How long ago? When the hell were you going to tell us? Tell him?"

"I'll take nosey partners for a thousand, Alex," Lennie said. "First off, it wasn't easy finding her. Second, it took Melnick quite a few phone calls before the girl would even come down south. Third, we've been trying to figure out the best way to introduce her to this."

Ed let out a low whistle. "So, you haven't told her a thing about her old man?"

"Gee, Ed, how do you suggest I do that? 'Hey, come help your dad out, he's out of his mind?' That'd sound good."

"Does Elizabeth know you're bringing her in?" Mike asked.

Lennie studied the cards in his hand. "She'll find out next session," he said.


	7. Enjoined

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 7 - Enjoined

Mike hadn't intended on bringing Jack to the 16th Precinct, but Benson asked for the favor, saying Munch had something in mind. Since he liked Munch and trusted Benson, he didn't see any harm in the change of location – not saying Lennie agreed.

In one of the interrogation rooms sat Mike, Jack and Benson on one side, Munch, and their precinct's sketch artist on the other, their backs to the mirror. Covering the entire table surface were the pictures and notes that both teams had about the murders. Medical Examiners Warner and Rodgers were able to positively identify ten sets of bones between them. That left the remaining names, hopefully.

Benson and Logan compared notes as they put them in order. Munch quietly helped Jack line up the pictures, the detective aware of the tears welling up in the other man's eyes as a deformed hand touched each one. Logan almost forced Jack to use his good hand instead, to lessen the pain, but Munch stopped him.

"She had blue eyes," Jack whispered moving the first picture towards the sketch artist. "Her hair…she dyed it three shades of red, hence her name…Cherry." He swayed momentarily then continued, "She had a tattoo, also – two stemmed cherries, small green leaf – here." He pointed to the collarbone not visible in the picture.

Logan flipped through the missing persons reports to find anyone with that description. "Nothing," he said.

"Got it," Benson said, handing a folder to Munch. "Cheryl Espinoza."

Jack tapped the next photo saying, "Daisy. She preferred… a long-haired white wig over her blond hair - dyed it too yellow." He paused. "One eye was green…contacts I think…her other eye was brown." He slid the photo across to Munch as he took another one.

The process went round like that with each of the girls now colorfully described and some of them named. It wasn't until Logan looked at his watch that the rhythm changed. "Man, no wonder you're tired," he said. "We've been at this for hours."

Benson left to get coffees for everyone while Munch tapped the sketch artist's shoulder to lead her out of the room.

"How are you doing?" Mike asked, feeling foolish for asking an obvious question.

Jack nodded as he rubbed his temples. "Tired. Terrible." He let out a heavy sigh. "I should have done this at the start, not now."

"Don't go beating yourself up, got it? There's this funny thing called 'recovery' that you're going through. Do this in the first few hours after getting dragged out of that mess, I doubt it." His cell-phone rang. "Excuse me. You gonna to be all right?" He knew that there weren't any 'hot-headed' detectives like Cassady at the 2-7, however he asked the question out of consideration if anything else.

Jack said yes, and then Logan stepped out of the room to take the call. He knew without looking at the caller ID that it was Lennie and that Mike was going to find himself in some hot water for sure.

Munch's frame hid Huang from Mike as the visiting detective took the proffered cup of coffee from Benson then rounded the corner. "What do you think, George?" Munch asked as he took his own cup before Olivia went back into the room. He wasn't untrusting of Doctors Skoda or Olivet, but he wanted someone close by to offer an opinion they could work from without invading McCoy's space.

Dr. George Huang studied the subject on the other side of the glass a bit longer. "Aside from the fact that no one bothered to put this man on suicide watch or give him a proper hearing, he's suffering from survivor's guilt. What he's seen and what he's done, he wants to tell someone. I doubt he's shared the bulk of the details you've told me about, John … and he's struggling. He wants to end this somehow."

"So, you want me to tell Lennie to put away all sharp objects and pills then?"

Dr. Huang shook his head. "That isn't it – not exactly. He's carefully trying to figure out how he fits in this former reality while purging the recent reality. He's looking for a way out to avoid what he sees as additional harm or damage – all of it his doing just by being here."

Munch watched as Benson chatted beside McCoy, who wrote something on the legal pad left behind, uncertain if it was an honest conversation or another monologue. "So, you think there are more victims than the ones we found."

Huang nodded. "The fact that he's memorized their names is incredible, especially if there are as many names to come as I fear. He doesn't know about the recordings. And as far as you guys are concerned, there were only two found. This Mark Bruner isn't known for bothering with television or other electrical entertainment." He waved a finger in Munch's direction. "That leaves you with one of the other captors you're trying to find who would want to relive every detail possible and probably has the remaining tapes in a separate location."

"But we haven't found an M.O. featuring that kind of voyeurism except for a guy who's already serving time and he didn't take it as far as murder on this scale."

Dr. Huang turned back toward the glass. "Expect that scale to get heavier soon, John. Like I said, the collection you guys have there is only a small part. Your main concern will be how to keep Jack in this reality and allow him to expunge the details of the other one. Because if you don't-."

"He'll find his own way to end it, I got it," Munch said.

George shook his head. "Worse. He'll find a way to return to it."

Olivia watched as Jack wrote down the details. She suspected that the identification process wore him out to the point that he didn't want to talk anymore. She hadn't expected him to write as feverishly as he did, almost finishing the pad they had. She tried to get Munch's attention, gesturing to him to bring in a couple of more pads and a some pens, hoping he got the message.

She knew what she held back from Logan when she called him to bring McCoy down and she knew she was right to do it. Maybe if Huang could get Eliot to see what the others had already known, then perhaps he could move on to the task at hand. She knew he was passionate about cases involving kids. The ones dealing with kids close in age to his own kids hit him the hardest and she knew that couldn't be the case here. Not yet, at least.

"I'll be right back," she said, not wanting Jack to lose the motivation or lack of materials to continue. She didn't want to leave him in the IR alone either, remembering the threads in the rumor mill of what happened last time in another IR at another time. The fact that he agreed to work in here with the others surprised her.

McCoy handed her the first few pages then resumed writing. She watched him a moment longer then stepped out of the room to give Munch grief.

"Learn to read the signals, Munch!" she said, handing the pages to Huang – or so she thought.

Eliot stood there, silent anger cloaking him as he held the papers back from her. "Didn't see fit to tell me about this, eh?"

Olivia didn't feel like getting into an argument. "Well, Fin had a reason to ask you to work with him today."

"Yeah." He took the papers and walked back to his desk. "Mind if I read these?"

"Only if it doesn't mean having to hurt you later, sure," she said.

Munch came up beside her. "Sorry, had to go to the supply room. You coming back in here or what?"

She was divided – supervise Eliot while he read or support McCoy while he wrote. She decided on the latter, at least until Logan's return, she told herself.


	8. Endeared

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Author's Note – If Jack's daughter's name was given/mentioned in "Fallout," I failed to catch it. However, I believe in a proper, strong Irish sounding name, so if there's a discrepancy….author's privilege.

Chapter 8 – Endeared

Joe Fontana rearranged his notes on his desk, cleared it, and then started over again. Nina Cassady watched, bemused.

"What's the problem again, Joe?" she asked before returning a fallen folder to him.

"The timeline," he said. "There were three guys in the first video, and yet TARU said they could count six distinct voices in the second. Lieu thinks it has something to do with that Mark Bruner guy, but…"

Cassady nodded, getting it this time. "Bruner, Drake and Marlock didn't escape until after the disappearance, if we have the dates right." She took out her notes. "I talked to Dr. Donall Stillman and he hasn't been able to trace how or when his mother-in-law lost her oxygen tank, but it was definitely his order." Before Fontana could ask, she continued, "And no, his prints weren't anywhere on it. So, we're adding theft to this collection of problems."

"Maybe trading off," Fontana said. "Drake…He's an arsonist-."

"Yeah, but the people in that building were burned alive, Joe. Why wait a year before going back to what put you in prison in the first place, with people already dead, no less?"

"I don't know. Want to hand me those sketches again, please?"

Cassady shook her head. By now, he should have had the faces memorized. She did and only one matched one of the escaped convicts – Marolf. The other sketch was still an unknown. Cassady had to hand it to Ms. Douglas for being able to give them clear details on those two men. McCoy wasn't as forthcoming.

Cassady shook her head again as she watched Fontana shuffle the information in front of him yet one more time.

----------

Lennie made a mental note to buy Danielle Melnick the best gift possible to thank her for what she was doing at the moment. He visited Erin Brenna McCoy at a cafe after the night out with the gang. She had her father's eyes, dark hair, and tall svelte figure. Problem was she inherited her mother's distant attitude and quick temper as well.

Danielle offered to take Erin to Olivet's office, so that gave him a chance to possibly prepare Jack for a shock of all shocks.

"You know, we could put an end to these visits. I could pull some strings at the D.A.'s office and say, 'Hey, he's done all that he needs to.' They might agree with me, too."

Jack said, "Sorry about yesterday, about taking up all of Logan's time and making you worry."

Lennie chuckled. "You didn't worry me. As for Mike, he's a big boy. Now Ed, he might have taken the role of wounded partner, but, hey."

"Wounded. Seem to do a lot of that to many folks around me lately."

"Now look," Lennie said, not about to let him go down a guilt path before session, "you're not hurting any of us. Might be the other way around, maybe, but…"

He was relieved to see Danielle waiting for him in the outer room. "Look, today might be tougher than usual, but remember; you've got me and several others here to help. You got that?"

Jack nodded. Danielle gave him a big hug before he quietly entered Olivet's office.

"They don't kid about Irish ire, Lennie," Danielle said as she led him toward the hallway. "Something tells me that Erin will make Jack fight for this."

"Think that's a good thing?" he asked. "I mean, I suppose he should get through this trauma first before pulling at other old wounds -."

"According to Elizabeth, this is the only thing he's wanted to talk about. It might pull him out of his depression. Just pray for the best, all right, Lennie?"

Lennie chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure I can add that to my growing list of prayers, no problem." Topping the list was one of thanks that Jack took his medication without a fight. The other was knowing that there might be a new story told later tonight, as was the case with meetings with Skoda. He couldn't believe how many people he had 'met' since taking Jack in. The one living person Lennie wanted to meet had vanished from sight. Find one person; look for another, he thought.

"Are you all right, Lennie?" Danielle asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Just wondering what happened to Jack's guardian angel, that's all."

--------

Jack sat in the booth across from Wendy Douglas, Lennie taking the aisle seat. He hadn't expected to hear from her and was surprised to learn she was seeking him out. That was more than anyone in his family had done, he guessed if the session with his daughter was any indication.

He felt ashamed for wanting to see Erin, felt grateful that Lennie sought her out on his behalf even before Jack made mention of this wish to Dr. Olivet. Seeing both women there, expectantly and… He couldn't find the other word he wanted; felt he had failed them for not doing something or being something…

Erin had grown up to become a beautiful woman and had definitely inherited her mother's independence. He was proud of her and knew he had no business calling himself her father. He knew the cause of the rift, knew he took a larger share of the responsibility than he should have. Choices were made; calls were not. Distance grew further than Jack could have imagined and yet he felt as if he had leapt over a large chasm just seeing her there before him.

He didn't know what to say, and for all practical purposes, it seemed as if Dr. Olivet didn't either, at first.

It struck him how seldom he had thought of her as Elizabeth, unless he was slipping into guilt about things. He knew she wanted to help him, but he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her or Erin, hence the shield of silence. It wasn't because they weren't strong women. No, he feared the worse in what would be said, shared in something he could barely bring himself to tell Skoda.

Now. Now, Wendy sat across from him, the same warm smile that comforted him during… Now, he reminded himself. Now, not then, not when…

He sipped from the water glass, buying time before he knew he had to say something, anything, to break the stillness that stifled him. His rescuers were here and he had no reason to fear.

Yet, that was all he felt, much of it burdening from the session. He knew Lennie would want to know part of it, and in a way, he owed it to Lennie to share even a summary. Wendy hadn't known that Jack had any children, had only known his given first name, a name he had loathed thanks to his father, a name that became a balm poured from Wendy's lips as he had given up…

Now.

"She seems nice, Erin," Lennie said at last. "I mean, she has your stubbornness if that's any indication of your influence."

Jack smiled. "Spoken like a father of a daughter." He surprised himself in saying that aloud, cringing at the memory of Catherine's death. He was about to apologize when Lennie stopped him with a stern, yet not entirely angry look. "She…She has every right, you know."

"Tell me about it," Lennie said referring, in part, to his relationship with own girls.

Both men resumed eating their lunch when Wendy said, "I'd like to hear about it."

Jack knew that question would come, had assumed it would be Lennie to ask it, in the safety of the apartment. No excuse to stall, he told himself, picking at the salad on his plate as he carefully chose the words he wanted to say.

"It's been almost ten years since we've talked," he said. "It happened at university, when I caught her cheating on an essay exam. I told her she shouldn't do that, couldn't do that." He paused, seeing the sophomore's dorm room – bunk bed along one wall, desks on the other, and clothes, music and papers scattered all about. He remembered his ex-wife's call saying how excited she was for their girl's success. When he learned of the corner Erin cut, he wasn't quite as happy.

"I said some things I was later told I shouldn't have. The following year, she sent me a magazine…"

Lennie shook his head, as if knowing which way this was going. Wendy waited.

"Let's just say…They were pictures a father would never think existed of his daughter." Jack emptied his glass of water slowly. "Then she sent me the typical portrait pictures every year after that as if nothing happened."

Wendy looked at him with pity in her eyes. Whether it was for his narrow-mindedness or perhaps a parent's sorrow, he couldn't tell. The story he shared was something he had never told anyone before. The fact that the sharply dressed woman he saw in Dr. Olivet's office could never be paired with the young woman of before… Now.

"She shook my hand," Jack said finally. "We sat; they talked; I listened."

"As if you weren't even there," Lennie said.

Jack shrugged. To one woman, he was merely a troubled patient. To the other woman, he was just a troublesome non-parent.

Lennie sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even sure how to tell you her response to the call that was made by her mother."

"I can imagine," Jack said. He wasn't certain why he hadn't heard from his brothers and sisters and wasn't sure if he wanted to see them. He was supposed to be the strongest of the group, the protector, the one who could take whatever was dished out. He wanted to ask about them.

Now, he told himself.

"I know I can't thank you two enough," he said softly. "And I can't apologize to you enough, either."

At this, Wendy laughed. "I'm telling you right now that you're done doing both; do you hear me, John?"

Jack smiled slightly, relieved and ashamed at the same time. He had done enough of far too many things and the end was, yet wasn't, in sight.

Lennie's cell phone rang. One look at the caller-id and Lennie excused himself, his expression difficult for Jack to read.

Wendy took both of his hands in hers. For some reason, that was enough for him; not being asked what he was thinking or how he was feeling. She caressed them, bringing back memories of their time together. He lost all track of time and had believed her when she said it was a new day with each new visit. She had changed her clothes, her hair, but never the warmth she offered him. The fact that Bruner hadn't killed her…

Now.

He looked up in time to see Lennie put his phone away, a troubled look on his face. "We're expected at the 2-7," Lennie said. He cleared his throat then continued. "They caught someone that might be of interest to both of you."


	9. Fallen

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Author's Note: Warning: increase in profane language in this chapter – high tension levels.

Chapter 9 - Fallen

Ed stood on the other side of McCoy, uncertain of what the other man was thinking or feeling. The perp they had in the lineup was caught speeding. The relative similarity between the perp and Wendy Douglas's description had a few variations, but was close enough to warrant the call to Lennie.

In the room with him were Van Buren, Borgia, the perp's attorney, and McCoy. The room was too crowded for Ed's taste, but the anxiety he could imagine Jack was feeling was probably even more choking.

"Take your time," Van Buren said in a calm and soothing voice. Wendy Douglas had identified the perp almost immediately. Jack took more time than Ed had expected.

"Number three," he said slowly.

"You're sure?" Lieu asked.

Jack nodded, not taking his eyes on the man on the other side of the one-way glass. "It's number three," he said.

"That's three positive identifications," Lieu said to the attorney.

"Charge him," Borgia said.

The defense attorney shrugged his shoulders. "As if prison's new for him," he said as he left.

"For the charges he's facing, the consequences will be," Borgia said.

Ed noted that Alex took Jack's hand for a moment and gave it a quick squeeze.

Lennie clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder as he led him out of the precinct. "One caught," he said. "The others will fall."

Jack nodded, but Ed wasn't sure if he was listening. The detective wanted to go with them, but his partner had other plans. Reluctantly, Ed said goodbye to them just as Logan handed him a couple of folders.

"Got good news from the 1-6. One of our escaped fugitives from the list was caught - Marolf. Come on. We've work to do," Logan said, pulling him back toward Ed's desk.

------------

"Do you want the good news or the bad news," Fin Tutuola said as the others gathered around his desk.

Munch spoke up first. "Let's take the bitter pill first."

"We've a problem with the list," Tutuola said as he handed a stack of folders to Stabler.

"You found some addresses, I fail to see the problem," he said scanning through them.

Fin shook his head. "What McCoy gave us and what the M.E.s had, there isn't a match. It doubles the total."

Eliot shrugged. "So, we bring him here and lean on him some."

Olivia spoke up. "Guys, we were lucky to get what we have now. Are you sure pushing him is wise?"

Munch took some of the folders from Eliot, not surprised by the lack of continuity. "Doubt it. So, what's the good news?"

Fin grinned. "Our high profile boy wants to talk. Bragged about some girls and some of them fit our list. Asked him about some of these names and he's playing dumb."

"Maybe he didn't think it was worth knowing," Eliot said. "Either that or he wasn't there."

Marolf's photo was handed to Munch. "He was there," the older man said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"How can you be so sure?" Olivia asked.

"He fits the M.O. that's why," he said.

Fin looked at his partner, knowing why he knew and agreed with him for the same reason – gut instinct. "We have to call him down?"

"Yep," Munch said.

"And if it's just a waste of time?" Eliot said. "We're assuming this creep, who escaped…" He muttered a curse. "Do we have any other possible motives we're not seeing here, on either side of this investigation?"

-------

"Why does the name 'Barnes' sound familiar?" Connie Rubirosa asked as she went through the schedule.

"Leland Barnes," Alex Borgia said. "He was acquitted not long ago when his case was retried. Two of the witnesses had died –one in a car crash, another of a heart attack; the third was uncertain of her testimony, so…" She paused. "Jack was the original prosecuting attorney in the first trial. I'm sure he would have given Leland the just reward he deserved during the appeal. "

"Alex, there was nothing wrong in the L. Barnes trial. So, you mean to tell me that Harlan is his son?"

"Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

Connie shook her head. "That's all it is, Alex. Or, do you want to 'help' me with this case's dismissal, too?"

Alex said nothing, knowing she had fallen a few levels in her supervisors' eyes. She knew what she knew, and intuition told her that she was right about this.

--------

Emil Skoda sat in the armchair as Jack took the all-too-familiar position by the window. This time, the patient leaned his head against the glass, eyes seldom blinking. Emil had yet to win the fight to force Jack to see a doctor for a proper physical check-up. But, that wasn't his primary concern today.

"How was your first meeting with Erin?" Emil asked.

Jack shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked for it."

"Why?"

"I hurt her more, that's why."

Emil anticipated this challenge even if Elizabeth didn't. "How?" he asked.

"She had to relive the wounds I already caused her."

Emil kept a blank face, aware of the erroneous logic presenting itself. "How do you know?"

"I watched her; I heard her."

"Jack, did you talk to her?"

He shook his head. "Elizabeth did. I made her madder at me still."

"Therapists don't get mad," Emil said, "they get therapy." He hoped for a smile in response. No such luck.

Jack sighed, leaning further against the window. "I can't tell her what she expects me to tell her."

"You don't have to," Emil said. "Besides, her expectations are no different than mine – how can we best help you get through this."

"Maybe I'm not meant to." Almost as quickly, Jack added, "I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry! I just… There's no escape and yet…"

Emil learned they caught one of Jack's captors and decided to address it. "What went through your mind when you saw Harlan Barnes?"

A blank expression came over Jack's face as he replied in monotone. "It's all a lie, a bad sign."

"Of what, Jack?"

"Of the worst yet to come. Barnes? He was the least dangerous of them. Not saying he didn't kill or…, he's nothing compared to…" Jack shivered but refused to try and warm himself. Emil wasn't going to force him either.

Tears streamed down the patient's face as Emil assumed a flood of flashbacks overwhelmed him. This time, rather than slide to the floor into a fetal position, Jack steeled himself as best he could.

"I know you want me to tell you what happened. I know they want me to help them solve this. I know… Yet I don't. The others are still out there and…" He took a deep breath. "Even if I tell you everything about those young women, that won't bring them back. It won't change the fact that they… I should have found a way to… I see them every night when I close my eyes; I hear their final breaths; feel their final touches; smell their fear and dying; and almost taste… I can't let go. I can't.

"I've told you what I could and it isn't enough, I know. They want more and I can't repeat it. Telling you ... Lennie – God bless Lennie! - the hell I've put him through. When I could just as easily go home…"

Emil wondered whether or not he needed to remind Jack that he no longer had a home to go back to, and wondered how the conflict of Erin having to pack up the apartment played into the meeting.

"There's no home to go back to," Jack said. "There's no job to go back to. However, I could…"

The pause forced Emil to sit up straight, fearing that what George Huang said was too true. "Jack, listen to me. You have a family of friends here. You are back here with them and I need you to remember that."

"At what cost to them?" he asked. "At what cost to Erin?"

--------

Elizabeth watched as the tension slowly dissipated between father and daughter, even as the silence remained. As much as she wanted to initiate the discussion between the two, to put into play what she and Jack had rehearsed, she had to see what steps her patient would take.

Erin spoke up first, and this time directly to her father.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her chair awaiting Jack's response. Silence wasn't what either woman wanted.

"To have to take time out to pack away your crap and see the junk you held onto – talk about a waste of time! Talk about why you had to leave someone else to pick up the mess!"

Again, Jack said nothing.

"It's all in storage. Mom wouldn't let me get rid of anything! Her of all people telling me to hold on! Where the hell were your siblings, huh? What about your 'so-called' friends? I can only imagine what your successor had to sort through at your true home!

"If you were going to pull this vanishing act, you could have made it simple for everyone by just dropping dead! No, you just have people wondering where you vanished off to when you were supposedly on 'vacation.' Did your boss really have to threaten you to take a break? Are you that much of a jerk to be shoved onto the wagon for workaholics? No bimbo to drag you out of the office after work like normal people?"

Jack remained perfectly still as the tirade continued.

"No wonder Mom left you! No wonder you're alone all the time with that damn scotch bottle of yours! That's the only reliable thing you have in your life, isn't it? Couldn't be a dead drunk in a gutter, could you?"

Elizabeth felt the anger boiling in the younger woman on the other side of the desk. In a way, she was thankful for the barrier. Then again-.

"Say something, damn it!" Erin said as she stood up then shoved her father out of the chair and onto the floor.

Jack did nothing as Erin's rage poured out in hammering fists and kicking feet. Belatedly, Elizabeth noted the high-heel, pointed shoes. No attempt of defense as years of pent up fury showered onto the once-absent father. Elizabeth tried her best to pull the young woman off only to meet much resistance. For a moment, Elizabeth thought of throwing herself between the two just to protect Jack.

No choice, Elizabeth admitted as she reached for the phone on her desk and call security.

----

Jack knew he deserved it. He failed Erin too many times and this was only a small penance to pay. Never mind the split she caused by her choices and actions.

He noticed she was gone, pulled back by two men.

"No!" He rose to his knees almost instantly, reaching out to Erin, who continued to struggle to get back at him. "No!" he cried again as he found himself pulling from someone now.

They were almost to the door with his daughter. He couldn't, wouldn't lose her. Now on his feet, he charged one of the men, pulling on one arm as he repeatedly struck the other with his fist. "No! Leave her alone!" he said with each hit.

The other man shoved him back, the person behind Jack now wrapping both arms around his chest. "No!"

With all of his strength, Jack rammed into the other man, almost freeing his daughter, almost helping her escape. "Don't!" he demanded before desperately digging his fingers into the man's arm.

Most of the raised adrenaline fought off the flood of memories of earlier fights as Jack's fists flayed wildly, before being pinned to the floor. He stretched out to her with his free arm. "No! Don't! Leave her alone!" Tears burned his face as his heart pounded in his throat. The look on her face!

"Dad!" she cried, arms reaching out for him.

"No!" he cried as the three people vanished behind the slamming door.

He half-heartedly struggled as he was completely pinned down, a needle sinking into his shoulder. "Leave her alone!" he whimpered as darkness crashed upon him heavier than it had before.


	10. Foreign

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 10 – Foreign

"He's where?!"

Lennie paced back and forth in the waiting room determined not to punch a hole in the wall. He blamed himself for finding Erin, for not setting up a safer forum for the family to heal itself. He blamed himself and cursed Olivet for her role in this. What the hell kind of shrink was she to not keep something like this from happening? Hell, Skoda would have ensured some sort of safeguard!

"He's on a 72-hour hold, Lennie. For his own protection," Olivet said, still rattled from the confrontation.

Good, he thought, she's still suffering for her part. "For his protection, you say? He's been locked up in who-knows-where for over a year and you send him to a lock-up facility? Are you nuts?!" He stormed towards the door. "I'm getting him out of there!"

"You can't," she said. "I signed him in and-."

"I'll find someone to sign him out! Skoda wouldn't have screwed him up this badly!"

She sighed. "Lennie-."

"No! You should have done something to help him! Now he's got more shrinks screwing up his already messed up state of mind. Go to hell, Elizabeth!" With that, Lennie Briscoe set off on the warpath to bring Jack back home.

----------------

Emil Skoda watched Jack sleep on the sofa, knowing full well the sleep was a lie. Shock stilled the now overly-medicated man before them. Of the reports he could get his hands on, the observations – or misinterpretations as Skoda saw them, were discouraging to say the least. The doctors would have committed Jack had Skoda not stepped in.

He knew Lennie's irritation was justified, but, so was Elizabeth's attempt, and most certainly Erin's anger. Now, he wondered how far the object of their concern had slipped back into the mental prison they all had tried to free him from. To make matters worse, the district attorney was making unrealistic demands of Jack that forced the officers at both the 2-7 and the SVU unit to run defense against.

"He hasn't eaten a thing," Lennie said, handing Emil a drink. "Worse, he stopped taking his medication-."

"After this, I don't blame him," Emil said.

"When the first perp was arrested," Lennie finished.

Emil sighed. They were going to be back at square one at this rate.

"Any news about the investigations?" Emil asked changing the subject.

Lennie nodded, a look of renewed determination in his eyes. "SVU caught Drake. They have him on plenty of charges and were going to forego Jack having to identify him."

"Anything else?" Emil asked.

"Yep. Their A.D.A. is as much a pain in the neck as Rubirosa. She wants Jack to identify Marolf for the additional charges and expects him there sometime today."

"Too bad," Skoda said, "Doctor's orders – he's not fit to go anywhere."

Lennie sat on the edge of the coffee table and took a deep breath. "Erin hasn't returned any of my calls. Danielle's getting the same result."

"Give her some time. I'm sure she's just as shaken as-."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Doc," Lennie said. "Right now, Jack thinks she's dead. I can't get her to see how important it is to tell him otherwise."

Emil let out a sigh. For now, neither he nor Elizabeth scheduled Jack for an appointment. They both agreed to wait until their patient was 'stable' enough. Emil found that thought laughable. His patient and one-time colleague was mentally shattered and had refused a complete physical – something Emil felt guilty about not asking Lennie to take care of.

As if the former detective read his mind, Lennie said, "I've got an appointment set up with my doctor. He knows the deal and has agreed to see Jack at the clinic. Trick will be getting him there."

"When?" Emil asked. "I could probably lend a hand."

"End of the week," Lennie said. "I've got Ed to help. Need to make him feel useful, too, you know."

Skoda nodded. "You've got your hands full."

"Can't expect me to sit on them just because of retirement, can you?" Lennie said, with a hint of the trademark smile Emil realized he had missed in their rare talks.

--------

The truth behind the excuse of a poker game was known to all around the table: Danielle, Anita, Alex, Munch, Ed, and Fin. Lennie alternately surveyed his cards and his friends, wondering how high the stakes were when all was said and done.

Joe had seen fit to give Lennie a heads up about Ed working the Barnes angle, one that both of the older men felt certain was pointless. On the positive side, Cassady had found some evidence to link Drake to the arson. That still left the mystery of how Jack vanished in the first place – last seen leaving the office en route to his vacation destination.

Given the man's habits, not unlike Lennie's, the destination was never given, nor a contact number left, considering how foreign the concept of vacations was to the workaholics. For all practical purposes, Jack had left with those last seeing him assuming he'd be relaxing the next day.

Studying the young A.D.A, Lennie wondered if it wasn't time for Ms. Borgia to take time away, either, lamenting the fact that McCoy wasn't mentoring this young woman as it was meant to be.

Jack slept in the other room. Or at least, Lennie hoped he slept. The last couple of days were draining as Lennie listened to Jack call out in his sleep, 'Please, I beg you! I bet you!' along with 'She's dead.'

"What did the doctor have to say yesterday?" Munch asked Ed and Lennie.

"Before or after calling Lennie 'Miracle Max?'" Ed asked. "I raise you five."

"Thanks a lot, Ed," Lennie retorted. "It took a while to calm him down and longer still to keep him…well, still."

Danielle shook her head. "Emil told me what the report said and it described him as practically catatonic. What happened in there?"

"At the hospital or at the clinic?" Lennie asked. "They had him in restraints at the hospital. Some nonsense about how the old scars on his wrists were evidence that he might try to commit suicide. As soon as he was strapped down, he was 'perfectly fine' so said 'Dr. Frankenstein.'"

"Other than that, the laundry list of injuries…" Ed said shaking his head.

Lennie finished, "Add to that, assault."

A silence hung in the air as the others took that in, no other explanation necessary.

"On a positive note, we were able to get him some medication for his migraines," said Ed.

Lennie, Munch, Danielle and Alex folded their hands as soon Anita raised the bet again. "I didn't know Jack suffered migraines," Alex said.

"You'll get your own soon enough," Munch said. "It goes with the job."

Danielle nodded. "Jack's suffered from migraines for as long as I've known him. I can't tell you how many bottles of Excedrin he used to go through. He orders his medicine on-line, but I can't tell you what it is."

"Hey, Danielle," Anita said, "we should probably get ready to go here, soon." She tossed her wager in to match her only challenger, Fin. "I think the boys here are about to contribute to the gasoline fund."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Fin said. "How do you know you're not contributing to my retirement fund?"

"Because I'm playing against a gentleman, that's why," she countered.

"Someone lied to you," Munch said. "Oh, wait, that's the whole point of this game, isn't it? What tells give away the lies?

Ed shook his head, in part to the duel, in part to something else. "I can't shake the feeling that someone we've got isn't giving us the whole story. Harlan, for one thing-."

"No shop talk, Ed," Lennie said, "at least not within earshot, please." He gestured a thumb towards the bedroom door. "I know all those meds are supposed to help him, but why chance it?'

"Isn't it a five hour drive to Portland?" Alex asked.

"One way, sure," Danielle said. "But that's plenty of time for us to practice our possible persuasions to share with Erin."

"May I join you?" Alex asked.

Anita shook her head. "Sorry, but it's a mother and guilt thing and you need a bit of experience in both."

"In that case," Munch said, "I can tag along for the guilt factor. I'm great at-."

"No," three voices answered in unison. Munch gave Lennie a disapproving look.

"Et tu, Brute?" he complained.

Lennie deadpanned, "You're the theories generator, so how about helping us guys – and lady – here with some suggestions, huh?" They all watched Anita gather the winnings before her. "Besides, if she's as good with the 'mother-card' as she is with these cards, what good could you do?"

Ed and Lennie helped the ladies with their coats as Alex and Fin cleared the table. Munch took a spot on the couch and began brainstorming possible hypothesizes to the identity of the other captors. As the other three men sat in the living room, Alex excused herself.

"I'll leave you Lone Gunmen to your discussion, if that's all right." She took a few tentative steps towards the bedroom. After slight nod from Lennie, she entered the dark room.

---

She sat on the edge of the bed, noting the covers and a pillow were over his head as he lay on his side, and took one of his hands in hers. When she applied to work for the D.A.s office, it was with the hope of working with McCoy. Lost opportunities, she thought.

When he stirred, she got up to leave. He tightened his grip. "Don't worry;" he whispered. "I'm awake,"

"You should be resting," Alex said. She wanted to add, 'You should be in your office where you belong, too,' but held it back. "Migraine?" she asked, combing her free hand through his hair.

"No," he said. "Took a pill for that; don't know which one there're so many. "They're either going to cure me or kill me, don't know which on that one, either."

Alex frowned, hoping he was referring to the drugs, not the people around him.

He turned over towards her but kept his eyes closed. "Poor choice of words, sorry," he said, "definitely the drugs talking."

"They don't always work, though, do they?" Alex said, hoping he'd confide in her.

"No. They don't always work," he repeated. "Some things do, though," he said pausing, "sometimes."

"For example?" she prompted.

Jack's breathing grew softer and shallower. "You're here. I… I…"

"You're safe," Alex whispered, before leaning over to kiss him atop his forehead.

-----------

Eliot Stabler watched as Fin wrote down a list of names. "Don't tell me that's the dreaded list," he said.

"Got a hunch," Fin said. "The names McCoy told us were all diminutives of names we eventually found. So…"

Eliot finished the thought. "Taking our original list and altering it just might jog his memory, got it. Oh, that reminds me," he said digging a piece of paper out of his pocket, "Fontana asked if we had a 'Jackie' on our list. Do you have a Jacqueline on there?"

Fin made a face. "Nope, neither first nor middle name."

"All right," Eliot said.

Cragen stepped out and called, "Eli-," only to be interrupted by another officer. "What?" Cragen motioned Eliot to still come forward and report.

Fin muttered a curse. "I hope I'm wrong," he said more to himself.

Eliot didn't have a clue what Fin was referring to. "Knowing our luck, pal? I doubt it." He went to Cragen's office just as George stopped by Fin's desk.

"Hey, Doc, let me ask you something," Fin said once Eliot was in Cragen's Office.

--------

"You don't have to do this," Lennie said. "I've a doctor's note even, so-."

As expected, Munch was the first one to meet them. Benson and A.D.A Novak were behind him. Stabler kept his distance as Cragen showed them the way to the line-up room.

"Take your time," Cragen said.

Jack couldn't help but think how similar the two supervisors – Cragen and Van Buren – were. He looked through the one-way glass and saw him. "Number four," he said.

"You're sure," Cragen said.

"Number four," he repeated, forcing himself to keep the tidal wave at bay.

Casey Novak nodded. "That will be all," she said.

Jack wondered if the cold, curt personality was a generational or gender thing with the new A.D.A.s. Either that, or he was just too old.

He wavered slightly and felt two strong hands grab him by the arms. "This way," Benson said as she led him to a nearby interrogation room.

He sat down and hoped the lightheadedness would pass soon. This was part of the reason why Lennie tried to protect him, Jack told himself.

"I'm fine," he said, placing his hands on the table for stability. It dawned on him that he had a few far too many visits to interrogation rooms since this began. Each time, he felt a step closer back to… Stop it, he told himself.

"No, you're not," Lennie said, irritation clear in his voice. "We're-."

"May I talk to Detective Stabler?" Jack asked. "Please?"

The surprised expressions from the others barely faze him. He knew from his last visit that there was something to the distance from the other detective, something more than what he sensed from the teams at the 2-7. He suspected Munch knew more than he was letting on, but hinting at just enough to let Jack know he knew.

No. He had to get it out while he could. Seeing Marolf forced a pending crash that would drown Jack for sure if he tried to stay silent. "Please?" he repeated.


	11. Found

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 11 – Found

"Why me?" Eliot asked.

"Because you agree with him," Huang said.

"What?" He busied himself with some files, trying to find anything but this case to look at right now.

"He's guilty and deserves to be punished," Huang said. "You said so yourself, or so I've heard."

Eliot shrugged his shoulders. "Detective Cassady thought so, too, so-."

Huang continued ignoring Eliot's protest. "Eliot, you've worked with him before. He knows you're a fighter, a protector. I need you to remind him that he was once, too."

Eliot still wasn't buying it. "Look, I don't see-."

"He's asked for you specifically for a reason. I know he wants to help solve this case, but part of him believes he belongs back there with them in that hell to pay for what's happened."

Elliot looked at him. "Are you sure you don't need to see a shrink of your own, because that theory sounds crazy."

----

Eliot Stabler closed the door behind him, fully aware of the audience that watched on the other side of the glass. He didn't want to know McCoy's reason for the request. Eliot wasn't about to admit to Olivia the reasons behind his anger towards the other man or the convictions he held that McCoy did indeed rape Neela Simmons. Nothing he read in the scribbled pages he took from Olivia changed that. The simple reason was that people were capable of doing the most evil of things even behind a façade of good character.

It wasn't fair to hold that opinion of McCoy, but Eliot did just that. The fact that Munch chastised Eliot for it, as if he knew full well the reasons behind the 'faulty' logic only irritated Eliot. Olivia had always been about supporting the victim until all the facts were found. In this case, they supposedly were – they just didn't meet Eliot's level of satisfaction. That aimed at a man who, of all people, should have known the importance of upholding the law annoyed Eliot the most.

He sat down, back to the window, aware that the intercom was turned 'on' on the other side. "Heard you wanted to see me," he said, folding his hands together on the table.

"I owe you an apology," Jack said.

"For what?" Eliot said.

Jack didn't make eye contact as he continued. "I've not helped you or your team to the best of my ability. There's a lot I've not said to those who need to know."

"I'm listening," Eliot said, leaning back in his chair.

Jack nodded. "And brooding," he said. "You believe what Cassady believes, what Rubirosa believes."

"How do you know?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I just do." He paused. "She had my ring after all. That with the physical evidence, why wouldn't others believe I'm guilty," he said. "You know what you see. You've experience to support that."

"Yeah," Eliot said, wondering why he was hearing this confession that no one else believed. "You could say that."

"She was the first to die," Jack said. "The first one I saw die, even if we did disable one of them. Nina wasn't going to die standing still. She had no intention of dying."

"Nina?"

This time Jack looked up. "She hated that name, Neela. Neela Natalie was her grandfather's idea. Only certain people she'd allow to call her Nina. She'd have allowed you to call her Nina. She'd have liked you. She'd have laughed at the odd circumstances, but agree with you to a certain point."

"I'm sure," he said nodding. "But, she can't; she's dead. Want to explain that to me?"

"That's what I'm trying to do," Jack said, looking back down. "Nina was a prostitute-."

"That's no reason to kill her," Eliot said.

"-who was saving up to go to community college," Jack continued in monotone. "She was hired to… I don't know how she figured out something was wrong, but… She offered to help, told me how she'd take something along with her to get a message out. The ring was the smallest, and the closest if all went well. Obviously, it didn't."

"So, Nina was the first," Eliot said. "How do you make it a point to remember them all and yet you can't give us the names of your captors?" He didn't give Jack time to answer. "All you've given us is Mark Bruner and he escaped after Neela died. So-."

Jack shook his head slowly. Ever so softly he said, "I couldn't let Bruner win again."

Eliot moved his chair to sit beside Jack, but Jack moved away from him and sat on the floor, knees brought up close to his chest. Reluctantly, Eliot joined him.

"Thank you for saving them, the younger ones," Jack whispered. "Have you found their brother, yet?"

Eliot had to think about it for a moment. "You mean the Reardon case? We're still looking."

"When you find him," Jack said, "tell him to come home."

"Why would I do that? There's no home for him to go back to."

Jack looked Eliot in the eye. "She told me to have someone tell him to 'Come home.' He'll know what that means."

"What else should I tell him?" Eliot didn't have all day to waste with this snail pace storytelling, and by the looks of McCoy, he wouldn't have the strength to continue much longer.

"That she believed in him, and she loved him. He could keep the family together, safe."

Eliot noticed the distant look in Jack's eye and wondered what was to come. "What happened with you and Sasha?"

"The man you guys caught, Marolf, is the one who killed her. She knew one of us was going to die. Sasha insisted that we make the 'best of it' and ignore them. She knew how to tune out her surroundings, she said, and focus on who was in front of her.

"I tried to keep it from going… I had to… She knew what would happen if we didn't and assumed I'd die as a result. I knew otherwise, yet how does one… Soon, she had me enveloped in the bubble she created and we talked. She talked of her siblings and how I would save them. I would bring her brother home.

"For a woman – a child so young to be so mature… I… She…" He took a deep breath. "She told me her dreams. She wanted to be a child advocate, protect others from her fate. Sasha knew she had it in her to be a defender, she said. Had a lifetime on the job and learned from the best.

"She didn't hold any resentment towards her brother for doing what he had to do. He was the surveyor, the one who had to find a safe place to go to. Sasha knew he wouldn't approve, but she supported the others the best way she could. She learned what she swore her daughters would never learn - when she would have daughters. There would be plenty of time for that, she said. Sasha was only…"

At this, Jack choked back a sob. "Sasha was the soother, she said, the appeaser. That was her purpose, just as her brother was the shield. Sasha…" This time, the tears flowed.

"Sasha was seventeen," Eliot finished for Jack.

Jack nodded. "The others… Most of them were older; most without families. Some were so far lost that it was all to get a name from them when… I should have just said all the names at once and yet…"

"You said them aloud eventually," Eliot said. He decided it was his turn to confess. "I read the pages you wrote. None of those girls vanished into oblivion." He decided to test a dreaded theory Huang had. "Who is Jackie?"

Jack stood up, pushing his back against the wall for balance. "Lilly died because she laughed. Sherry died because she spat in his face." With each name, he moved away from Eliot, closer to the corner, never making eye contact. "Daisy died because she knocked over a beer can. Maggie died because she asked for a coat. Annie died because he was 'bored.' Ruthie died after she kissed me. Jessie died because he stabbed her. Ellie died knowing her husband cheated on her. Jenny died because she kicked him. Kimmy jerked away from him. Debbie ran from him. Peggy punched him. Libby had three children. Teri wanted to be a dancer." Jack's frantically paced voice tethered Eliot to follow.

He backed himself into the other corner now, making it quite a challenge for the audience to watch, Eliot thought as he tried not to crowd Jack.

"You're allowed to be furious with me, livid even," Jack whispered.

Eliot grabbed the man's shoulders to still him. "Listen to me!" he said shaking the man before him.

The door beside him swung open as Munch and Fin pulled Eliot back. Jack slid towards the floor, more from pure exhaustion than anything else. Eliot pulled free hard enough to lunge for the other man and catch him before he hit the ground.

--------

"We're here," Lennie said as soon as they entered the apartment. He knew he shouldn't have let Jack go to the precinct, knew he shouldn't have left him alone in the IR with Stabler of all people, and worse, knew he could have prevented it from the start.

At least he could let his friend know that another one was caught and that Wendy Douglas had made the positive identification. Lennie knew Joe would call him later to share details that Ed would 'conveniently' forget.

He rose to get a glass of water when Jack's hand tensed in his.

"Evelyn…" he started. Lennie paused, waiting for Jack to continue. "Evelyn tried to stay…, but they wouldn't let her."

Lennie encouraged Jack to sit down before he could fall down again. Jack's eyes glazed over as he shook.

"She's…was…a doctor. They…They brought her in after…after I was shot…Marolf aimed for Kimmy because… she pulled away from him…when he and the others… Evelyn…She eased the pain."

Tears rolled down his face. Lennie brushed them away as Jack continued.

"She…she was going to get…married, but….they fought and…she planned to…" Jack went into a coughing fit that jerked his body forward. Lennie kept an arm across Jack's chest until they subsided. "Evelyn called off the wedding."

Lennie thought he had a last name to go with the first, recalling details of a fiancé accused of murdering his bride-to-be. Making a note of looking up the details of the case, he felt he had a better idea of the timeline now.

"She was gone, Lennie." He paused as if to find the strength to continue. "Her bloody necklace…" He tightened his grip on Lennie's hand. "Don't go, please?"

Lennie shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, friend." He kept his promise, holding on as the man beside him slipped further into an abyss.

--------

"What the hell were you thinking, Eliot!"

The detective stood in front of his commander, hands behind his back and continued to take the tongue lashing. The glares from Olivia and the others hurt more than this.

Don Cragen threw down a thick folder onto his desk, the thud equaling a punch in the stomach for Eliot. "This, this is evidentiary information. How much you added to it, I don't know!"

Eliot could speak up in his defense but chose to remain silent. His colleagues all admitted having difficulty hearing what the conversation was about a couple of days ago. If McCoy asked for him alone, then Eliot wasn't going to share the contents with the others. But Munch…

"Dismissed!"

Quietly, looking the part of the chastised child, he went back to his desk where Olivia handed him a piece of paper. "Want to go?" she asked. "He gets off work in a few hours, they said."

He had a list of preferred destinations he wanted to go to. Hell with a handful of scumbags was topping it. "Where to?"

"We might have found the Reardon kid," she said. "I'll drive."

He nodded. "Sure." At least his partner wasn't giving him the silent treatment.

Munch pulled Eliot by the shoulder to face him. "Follow me," he said.

Eliot sat watching the video aware that Munch and Huang were watching him. The minutes before the two hours he watched sickened him. To promise murder if McCoy didn't have intercourse with Sasha… While there was some audio from the tape, Eliot could hear the conversation in his head all too clearly, even if it was an abridgement.

To watch Sasha's stabbing sent pangs through him; to see McCoy struggle to reach out for her as Marolf pulled her away to repeatedly stab her angered him. A screaming McCoy as his shoulder was pulverized with a metal tenderizer only to be salted later, forcing McCoy to pass out sent shivers down Eliot's spine. That was a detail left out along with the fight McCoy endured to keep Sasha in his arms as she lay dying. To hear another man's voice coldly say, 'Pry them,' left Eliot numb as the static played.

The room still dark, Dr. Huang asked, "What did you say to him to set him off?"

"Nothing," Eliot said. It was the truth as far as he could tell. Was he about to tell these guys that McCoy practically asked for a beating from him as punishment? Hell no. Was he going to press Huang about his knowledge of Jackie? Maybe. Was he going to go after Munch for keeping this to himself for months? Hell yes.

"You know about Jackie?" Eliot asked, turning to both men. "Given the rape and sodomy that McCoy's mentioned regarding the other victims, one can only assume-."

Munch didn't look away from Eliot as he said, "Jackie is probably already dead." He leaned forward, arms crossed. "I suppose you want to see the second tape?"

Eliot didn't flinch. "Along with this in its entirety, you bet. But, for the record, Jackie isn't dead. Not yet, anyway."

Huang nodded his head slowly as it dawned on him what Eliot was saying. "It's imperative that you don't let him out of your sight."

"From what you and Skoda told me," Huang said, "he's testing the realities. Those last few events are pushing him towards the wrong one."

Eliot couldn't help it as he said, "Wait, there's a right one?"

Both men ignored him as the doctor continued. "If we could keep from having to bring him in to identify the others as they're found, that could help."

"But, without his I.D.," Munch said, "we're running a risk of these scumbags getting off scot free."

"Yes," Huang said, "but seeing them only invites him to make the wrong choice."

Eliot didn't like the sound of that; added to what he heard from McCoy before his collapse only increased the concern. But first, he had a visit to make, and bad news to break to a dead girl's brother.


	12. Faults

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 12 - Faults

Anita Van Buren hadn't realized that Erin McCoy would be so beautiful. Danielle Melnick wasn't the least bit surprised. Then again, the other woman knew the girl's mother.

"May we come in?" Anita asked.

Erin nodded, motioning both women to enter the brownstone she called home. "Look, if my mother sent you-."

"She didn't," Danielle said. "Your father's condition has worsened, Erin."

"That's not my fault." She indicated the couches for them to sit on as she vanished into the kitchen.

Anita had to admit that Jack's little girl had indeed grown up. Looking around the apartment, Anita saw things that she and her husband couldn't afford with their combined salary. One item on the glass bookcase caught her attention - a small, wooden toy boat. She knew that boat anywhere, its rightful place once behind the owner's desk, framed by the picture window, as it sat atop a sea of clutter.

"No one's saying it is," Anita said, accepting the refreshments from their hostess. "It's just…Erin, him hearing your voice can do him a lot of good."

Erin shook her head. "No. Last time I spoke to him, I told him exactly what I felt. Look what that did to him."

Anita smiled sadly. "It was something you needed to do, something he wanted you to do."

"Sick son-of-a-,"

"Don't you dare call your father that!" Danielle said. "Sick, yes, but what would you expect? The other part? Don't you dare."

Anita had to hand it to the defense attorney, as if the face-to-face confrontation was what she wanted all along for this purpose. Anita learned a lot about the relationship between Danielle and Jack during the evening drive. In some ways, she couldn't help but wonder what a dynamic, if not volatile couple they'd make had they ever married.

"That wasn't what I meant," Erin said. "It's just…"

This time, Anita offered assistance, "It's just that seeing 'Hang-'em-High-McCoy' in such a state of despair isn't normal or expected, right?"

Erin nodded. "We're not your ideal daughter-father pairing, all right?"

Danielle laughed. "That doesn't exist anywhere, except in the movies. But, he's supported you no matter what, Erin. Whatever you needed or wanted, he came through. We're only asking for a phone call, since another face-to-face is out of the question for you."

Anita had to admit, Danielle had the guilt part down perfectly; she was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of it. "I'm going to tell you that for him, just seeing you was what kept him from completely…giving up," Anita said. At least, that's what she got from Lennie during one of his visits as Jack was with Skoda. "You're right. His work took up more time than it should have. But, dear, that's what fathers tend to do when they're determined to provide everything under the sun for their children. It's not like society allows them to play both parts properly like us mothers."

Danielle took over. "Now I know your mother's called you and she agrees that this behavior is pathetic, even for you."

"My mother hasn't even seen him, so who is she to talk? And she lives closer to him than I do!"

Anita stirred her tea, thinking about the minimal contact from his siblings as well. But that was neither here nor there. Lennie said he didn't blame them, being the first born in his family, also. It was an insecurity issue, he said. She thought it was something else but pushed the thought away, for now.

"He needs to see you, Erin!" Danielle had dropped the niceties.

Erin scoffed. "Why not bring in his latest tramp of a lady friend, huh? I'm not going to hurt him again. To me, he's dead."

Danielle had a confused look on her face as Anita bit back a chuckle. "Wendy Douglas?" Anita said. "You must have seen them that day at the café…She's the woman whose life he saved. She's the one who saved his life." She paused, but no long enough to let Danielle start up again. "Look, if I thought a tape recording from you would do it, I'd ask. He's buried you because in his mind, you've been murdered. You've buried him because…" Anita wasn't going to fill in the blank for Erin.

"I can't," Erin said.

Danielle stood up, angry. "You can't, or you won't?" She walked out the door as Anita offered to help clean away the dishes.

"Just go," Erin said.

Anita shook her head. "Sweetheart-."

"Only my parents call me that!"

"Fair enough," Anita said holding her hands up in an apology. "Erin, help heal one of them. Your mother's visited him once and it didn't do anything. I've visited him and have had little effect." She put a hand on Erin's. "He needs to know his daughter is all right."

----------------

"So, she's dead?" Levka Reardon said as he sat back down on the milk crate in his rented room.

"I'm sorry," Benson said. "Your younger siblings are safe. They're with Child Protective Services."

Stabler sat across from the young man, who was probably only a few years senior to Sasha, but looked a good ten years older. "She said it was time for you to 'Come home,'" Eliot said.

Levka nodded knowingly. "She would. I'm too late."

"Not for the others," Olivia said. "They've been asking for you. They need you."

Eliot cleared his throat. What he had to tell the young man next was going to be hard enough not to have Olivia there, too. Selfishly, he didn't want his partner to leave him now. "There were some other things she wanted you to know, too, Levka" he said. Glancing over his shoulder to his partner, he was impressed and relieved to see an all-too-familiar mask cross over her face.

"The man who was held captive with her did everything he could to try and save her. Instead, he could only offer her final words to you.

"She forgives you and hopes you'd understand her reason for doing what she did. She had faith in you and knew you'd find a way to protect the family. She did what she had to do to-."

"To provide for them, I know," Levka said. "She was taught too well, knew how to be provocative and innocent all at once. She," he began as he took out a soiled handkerchief from his pocket, "she said that she'd find a 'Daddy' to save us and properly care for us. Someone out there existed and she'd find him. Our 'damn daddy's' little girl was going to find the real deal." He paused, sneaking a look at the badges. "I should have killed the old man when I first had a chance."

Olivia spoke up. "But then, you'd be in jail, not him."

Levka shrugged his shoulders. "So? Sasha wouldn't have had to search the streets for a 'daddy' savior, huh."

Eliot felt his chest tighten. Of what little he heard on that tape, 'daddy' was fairly clear. "The guy tried," Eliot said, needing to finish what he had to say while he could. "He regrets having survived, whereas your sister-."

"I'm not mad at the guy. Sasha would have done what she thought…. It sounds like she did find him after all. Thank him for me, would you?" He looked from one detective to the other then back again. "Are there…were there any items she had?"

Eliot shook his head. "Just her words, I'm afraid."

Levka sighed. "That's better than nothing," he said.

------

"Eliot? Are you all right?" Olivia asked once they were back on the road.

He laughed. "Hell of a question to ask, don't you think? Everything fell into a neat, nasty collection of overwhelming facts to Jack's fall, that's all."

Olivia stared at him while they waited at a stop light. "What happened in the interrogation room?" She suspected she knew why their victim would confide in her partner. To try and open up to a woman about what happened invited too much pain, even if he already knew how strong they were. She didn't take the slight personally. "Is all of that what you told him true?"

Eliot nodded slowly, fingers hooking around the support bar on the car frame. "That was part of it. I mean, I told Levka all of his part."

Olivia hadn't expected this turnaround from her partner, first disliking McCoy's part, and now… "There's something else," she said. Boy, did she feel dumb saying that aloud. Of course there was 'something else' when one counted the anger from the others on the team, the verbal beating from Cragen, the pressure from Casey and, oh yeah, the search for the other pervs they dealt with daily.

"Do you know if McCoy's got kids?" he asked.

That was it. They reviewed the facts they could find about the victim's family, and one daughter was listed for Jack. No one had paid attention to it really, thinking it had no bearing on the case at all. Had she been thinking, Olivia would have pointed out that common fact to Eliot sooner if that's what it took to get him out of a funk. "A daughter. why?"

"How old?"

Olivia had to think about that. "In her late twenties, early thirties I think. Why?"

"They close?"

This wasn't fair, she thought. These were questions easily answered by Briscoe, and she said as much.

"Fine," he said, "after I talk to Munch."

There was the other change of dynamics, Olivia thought. She and Fin had talked about it a couple of times, neither one coming up with a satisfying explanation. "Fine," she said.

------------

Fontana looked at the financial reports Green had on his desk. Never mind the fact that the Italian had agreed with Logan about the obsessive factor, what lay before him was clear evidence that Green had crossed a line – again. "What is this supposed to mean, beside you getting kicked off the force, that is?"

"Don't you see it? It's the link between Barnes and-."

"Ed," Fontana said, "we've gone over this too many times now. There's no clear evidence suggesting that Leland's behind it. Remember the restraining order filed against you the last time-?"

Ed shook his head. "Someone had to arrange all of this somehow. The owner of the building, for example, that's Barnes' right? How else do you keep someone hidden that long without raising suspicion?"

"If I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't have a Missing Persons division, now would we? There are hundreds of abandoned buildings in New York, and the only people who pay attention to which ones are worth knowing about are usually the homeless. Let this angle go. There was no conspiracy established by Leland to win round two, got it?"

Disgusted, Ed gathered the papers. "We know without a doubt what Bruner's motive was."

"Really?" To Joe, the motive was too obvious to believe, yet not a good idea to take for granted. "If that's the case, why would he have escaped from prison with a rapist and an arsonist, life sentences to go around? The last two guys never dealt with McCoy in court, so…"

"We still have two others. One of them will know."

Fontana sighed. As many times as he watched the tapes, keeping copies for himself to find suggestions to make to TARU, he was no closer to identifying the last two. It was a wolf tattoo on Marolf's forearm that helped Fontana last time. It helped, yet didn't help when Munch confirmed it for him.

As for the last two men, one seemed all too aware of the cameras while the skinny guy was clueless to them. Had any of the other five been as oblivious about the cameras, Fontana wondered? That seemed to be the case with the recording from what was most likely the restroom.

Joe had returned to the site at least half a dozen times, twice as many if he counted the times Cassady insisted on joining. The building wasn't entirely destroyed, but it wasn't easier to find hints as to the lay of the place. It was Cassady's idea to get the blueprints for the place, but even then, Joe couldn't clearly see where McCoy might have been held.

He thought back to when he had a particularly frustrating afternoon and muttered something about taking McCoy out to the site. Cassady's response was unexpected. Taking McCoy back would mean taking him back in more ways than one and perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas, she said.

"Don't you have an appointment with Logan in IR Two now?" Fontana asked, changing subjects. If he didn't push Green back to the path he should be on, it would be a trade-off of McCoy for Green and that would never do for Joe. "If he's the guy you want to get answers from, then go get them."

On paper, Keegan was harmless – petty theft in a couple of bodegas. If anything, Fontana thought, it would be an uphill battle to leap from that to kidnapping and murder. Watching the skinny guy in the interrogation room with Logan and Green, Fontana had suspicions of his own.


	13. Gathering

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 13- Gathering

Lennie sat in the kitchen as father and daughter attempted another reunion.

Erin sat on one end of the couch with her back to the kitchen, allowing her father to sit with his back to the door. A minor thing, she thought, but if it helped. She liked Lennie, especially after hearing him tell the shrinks on the phone, in not so many words, to stay out of this meeting.

True, she pouted, fumed and behaved badly after the women left her house and had deliberately ignored her mother's calls. After sitting through one of the trials, blessedly short, she heard details that made sense to her and disturbed her at the same time. All of those young women murdered…

She was here for her father now, the one who would have prosecuted the bastard and won the maximum sentencing. Now, she had to face Jack and tell him her case, worrying how he'd decide when she finished.

"I'm not dead, Dad," she said, startled that she had finally called him that. Erin massaged the damaged hand in both of hers and wondered how many visible scars would remain to remind him daily. "I never thought how hard you'd taken that to be truth. In some ways, it's my fault, I-."

"No, it isn't," he said quickly, not looking up. "You have your own life, your own choices. I should have respected that, not ruin it."

Erin smiled. Typical, she thought. "Look, this is probably as close to a confession as I'll ever get, so just shut up and listen, all right?" Erin sensed a glare from Lennie, but she didn't care. Rehearsing what she'd say when she took the train down here was hard enough. Too many sleepless nights at her mother's place didn't help, either.

She leaned closer to him so only he could hear. "Growing up, I was aware of my image and of what I could do. I even remember deliberately testing that power when we took that vacation to the beach that one year, remember? I wondered, 'could I get my father to…'and I wasn't quite sure. I thought I knew. There were other times I tried to get your attention, in ways you didn't want me to. I know Mom wasn't aware of it or she would have slapped me from here to Hoboken. I couldn't resist the magazine offer. I'm not ashamed of my body and thought… I don't know what I was thinking.

"I just…Mom was just as married to her job as you were and I'm not mad at her for it. I don't know why. Did you know about the many men she dated after the divorce? Probably not. I was too pissed off at you when rumors began about you dating someone, too. I'm not going to tell you about my sex life or dating life. I know what I've wanted and know I'll never find it. So, it's easier just to hit you with the frustration.

"I'm not the 'Daddy's Little Girl' that you expected me to be and I know I don't have to apologize to you for it. I don't even know if I want to. But, if it turns out, in that warped logic of yours, Dad, that you thought you were trying to save me by saving those girls, then…you're so wrong." Her father winced, pulling away just enough to be noticed.

She heard Lennie get up from the chair in the other room, and then take a couple of steps into the living room. Erin turned and warned him off with a look. He responded in kind.

Looking back at her father, she continued in a soft voice. "Those girls had their own fathers who failed them somehow, or forgotten them. You didn't do that to me. And you didn't watch me die." Erin took his face in her hands, lifting it up to look him in the eye. "I'm here, Dad. You're here, too. Stay."

------------

Cassady looked at the notes on Fontana's desk, making a few notes of her own. Word through the rumor mill, something Nina thought she had traveled along more times than she should have, had it that Stabler was livid at McCoy for not providing the captors' names.

Only two names made sense in terms of direct connection to the victim, and one of them was removed a degree. "Joe," she asked not moving when he came back to his desk, lunch for both of them, "what if none of them knew each other's names? What if they provided pseudonyms instead?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Aside from the 'track and field trio,' there's no way to connect the others directly, not in terms of business, personal or otherwise. Drake and Marolf would have nothing to gain or lose by turning in the others. Barnes seems to be the resident idiot of the group, meaning if he's leading, it's only as someone else's puppet."

Fontana sighed. "Can you get to the point?"

"What if we never find all of them? What if we lose the other two completely and they're still out there, possibly watching Jack's every move? How would we know? How would Jack know?"

"You've a wonderful way of ruining a possibly good day, you know that?"

Cassady didn't let the comment detour her. "I'm just saying it isn't as if these guys ever gathered together since he was pulled from that building. Who we have is based purely on chance and none of them have flipped on their partners. What if the others are still living their 'ordinary, everyday' lives without raising a flag?"

"For an entire year, Nina? Come on. There's no way an 'ordinary guy' could be Mr. Calm by day and Mr. Killer by night without making somebody suspicious."

"Oh really? Remember Ted Bundy?"

-----------

"State your full name for the record, please" Connie Rubirosa said.

Alex Borgia loathed this case as much as she knew she'd loathe the others. The first two went by quickly without any major problems, granted, one was handled by A.D.A. Novak, but that was beside the point. This particular trial had Alex's stomach tied up in knots.

"John James McCoy," he said just loud enough for the clerk to hear.

"Mr. McCoy, could you tell the court who was responsible for the murder of Neela Simmons and the attempted murder of Wendy Douglas?"

"The defendant, Adrian Keagan," he answered.

Connie continued with her questions, and to Jack's credit, he answered them just as Alex had prepared him. For that, Alex was relieved and proud. This was the third time he had to take the stand and the third time he had to tell a roomful of people what had happened at the warehouse long ago.

Question was, how well could Jack stand up to the defense, Alex wondered. She didn't get to find out as the attorney said, "We reserve the right to call this witness back later for cross examination, Your Honor."

"Motion granted," Judge Jamie Ross said. "The Prosecution may call its next witness."

----

"We've a problem," Mike Logan said as he led Ed to the body buried underneath the bushes.

Ed knelt down to take a closer look. After a while, he muttered, "Damn."

"No sign of blunt force trauma or other external injuries," the medical examiner said. "Probably drank herself into a stupor and lay where she fell."

"Before testifying?" Mike said disbelieving. "Too much of a coincidence."

"She's homeless," one of the beat officers said. "It happens."

Mike pulled Ed back towards the car, eying the rookie as he stabbed a couple of fingers in the rookie's direction. "You're treating this as the homicide it is, do you hear me? And you treat her as if she were your mother!"

-----------

Borgia looked up and down the length of the corridor with no sign of Wendy Douglas. Their key witness had given her word that she'd be there, again, to help put these men behind bars. Seeing one of the officers from the 2-7 approach was not what Alex wanted.

Solemnly, she returned to the courtroom and told Connie the bad news.

"The Prosecution rests, your Honor," Rubirosa said, then sat down, no sign of emotion on her face as Alex struggled to contain hers.

Someone Alex had recognized from the hallway when Green broke the news went up to the defendant's table and whispered something to the attorney. He nodded a few times then dismissed the messenger.

"Your Honor," the Defense Attorney said rising. "We'd like to call John McCoy to the stand for our cross."

Alex cringed at that combination. She would have sworn the Judge's eye twitched, but that was probably imagination.

Jack was reminded that he was under oath and then the cross examination began…like a freight train.

"Weren't you and my client involved, Mr. McCoy?"

Alex gasped despite herself. To say a victim and rapist were in a relationship?! Connie remained silent.

"Mr. McCoy?" the Defense said, raising his voice as he repeated the question, "weren't you and my client intimately involved?"

"No," Jack said slowly.

"You're under oath!" The attorney grabbed a collection of letters. "Defense Exhibit thirteen. I have here letters between my client and this witness. Not your standard 'attorney/client type or business variety for that matter, Your Honor." He shoved the collection in McCoy's face.

Alex didn't like this; Connie didn't flinch; and Jack seemed to sink further into himself somehow, without necessarily showing it with his body.

"Are these letters from your office?"

"Yes, sir," he said softly.

"Is this your handwriting? Here, at the bottom of this letter? And your home address here on my client's letter to you?"

Jack studied the letters in the sealed, clear plastic bags. "Yes," he said, as if he had registered that fact for the first time.

"Would you read this one, the highlighted portion, Mr. McCoy?"

Alex admired the stubbornness that was still Jack McCoy. He read the letter, but not out loud. 'Good for you,' she thought. The judge didn't seem to object to this either.

"Well, was there intercourse, or not, Mr. McCoy?"

Jack didn't answer as the attorney turned to the judge. "Permission to treat the witness as hostile?"

"Permission denied," Judge Ross said. "Mr. McCoy doesn't have to answer the question."

Alex couldn't believe it. Connie had to say something or she would! She rose to do just that when Connie held her down and gave her a look.

"Fine," the attorney said. "So, how close were you and my client, Mr. McCoy?"

Judge Ross glanced at the D.A.'s table then turned. "Counselor, caution."

"Your Honor, I'm trying to establish the fact that this witness is a jilted lover falsely accusing my client of a very serious crime. The jury has a right to hear the details of what happened."

"Then I suggest you phrase your questions to reflect that, Counselor," Judge Ross said, a firm edge to her voice.

The attorney nodded his head in acceptance then changed tactics. "Isn't it true that you confessed to killing Neela Simmons, Mr. McCoy? I've here Defense Exhibit fourteen. This is a signed police confession given by this witness…"

Alex elbowed Connie, demanding that she object to this, that this case never saw the light of day, thanks to Danielle Melnick. Even the Judge gave an expectant look at the A.D.A.

"Objection," Connie said, finally.

"Sustained," Ross said, still looking at Rubirosa.

"Fine." The attorney approached the witness stand and placed both hands on either side of the partition. "Are you aware that the only other witness to this case is dead; she drank herself to death?"

Jack shook his head slowly as the attorney continued. "You claim my client tried to kill her, but where were the marks? How is it you're the one with the scar on your neck? How do we know it wasn't from a lovers' quarrel?"

"It happened the way I said it did," Jack said.

"We've only your word for it, Mr. McCoy. Did you pay off this drunk to fabricate this preposterous story?"

"Say something!" Alex hissed at Connie to no avail.

"Adrian Keagan took a razor blade and attempted to slice Wendy Douglas' neck with it. I pushed her out of the way and was cut instead."

It amazed Alex how Jack was able to maintain eye contact and a steady voice as he repeated the events Connie asked of him earlier.

"So you say," the attorney replied. "No further questions for this witness."

"We'll hear closing arguments tomorrow morning at nine o'clock," Judge Ross said, and then dismissed the court with a pounding of the gavel. Alex tried to read the woman's emotions but was met with the same stone expression Alex knew existed on her mentor's face.

--------

Jack couldn't believe it, even after he insisted on being taken to the body.

Wendy Douglas was dead.

Van Buren placed a coffee mug in front of him. "I'm sorry, Jack."

He stared at the rising steam, not wanting to believe that someone close to him had… He thought of Anita, Lennie, Ed, and everyone else who rallied around him since… His daughter… No, he never should have asked. First Wendy, next, possibly Erin.

"It wasn't like her to drink like that," he said. He expected to be interrupted. When he wasn't, he continued. "She was the one who helped me the most, I think. She was the only one who could make my given name sound like a gift, like my mother or my aunts. Wendy had this warmth that sustained me when we were in that cold… It was… Part of me knew it had to be the same visit, that Wendy wasn't coming and going day in, day out. But she made me believe, so I did. By her telling, we had a week together.

"Wendy is…was… I couldn't let her die, not if she wrapped me in her cocoon and told me to hold on to life. But, I had another reason to get in Adrian's way – I had enough, yet knew they wouldn't let me die…"

"You bought Wendy the time she needed to escape with her life," Anita said.

He wrapped his arms around himself. "And yet she's dead."

"Are you familiar with 'A Survivor's Prayer'?" she asked.

Jack nodded. John Munch had given him a copy of it shortly after…Lennie had read it to him a couple of times and it helped him go to sleep, seeing each girl as a flame to bring out into the daylight.

"I know what you're saying, Anita. And I know what I'm feeling." He shook his head before he leaned over the coffee mug, face warmed by the steam. "Don't worry; I don't intend to kill myself. I can't."

"That's because, you're a survivor, Jack McCoy."

"No," he said softly, "because worse things will happen."

Jack was thankful to see Lennie walk in, even if Lennie's expression was that of bearing bad news.

"Remind me why I hate courtrooms," Lennie said as he collapsed into the empty seat in Van Buren's office. "I'm sorry, Jack."

He smiled inwardly, despite himself. Two apologies from two people – friends – who didn't owe him anything. "I think I've learned to hate courtrooms, too," he said, hoping to get a smile from the former detective. It didn't work. Instead, the disappointment and bitterness took over as Lennie slammed his fist against the arm of the chair.

"Not Guilty! Can you believe that?!" he said.

Jack could. He failed them this time, and given Adrian Keagan's earlier charges, all of them minor, Jack knew he didn't stand a chance; Keagan would be free. To learn that Keagan was so prepared to present this pretence of an ongoing relationship… It put Keagan's actions into a new light during…

That first night of 'initiation' set Jack up for pain he only imagined. It took longer than he cared to admit before he could come close to numbing himself to it, forcing himself to ignore the occasions when …. Only when the times were him against the five did he successfully will himself into another place so quickly.

He stopped fighting Adrian and the others and had convinced himself that he didn't exist. Jack knew he followed commands given, but it wasn't he who followed them. He did things he was told, just as in dealing with Daisy, and the others, yet again, it wasn't him. What had happened at Rikers that night was but a pebble in comparison.

No, Adrian would be free to go, free to taunt Jack if and when he pleased. Of course, Jack should have, would have told Van Buren about Keagan's obsession, but what would be the point? Jack had tried to say the fact in his mind and it sounded absurd to him.

"At least they convicted Drake," Van Buren said, reading over a report from her computer screen. "You shouldn't have to testify against him, Jack."

Four done, two remaining, Jack thought. Bruner and the one Jack called 'The Protector.' The other man was different than Mark Bruner. While Bruner kept the role of observer, The Protector took the role of eraser, doing what he could to undo some of the pain and damage done.

Jack sighed. Bruner, Keagan and the Protector. It could have been worse, he thought.


	14. Guilt

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 14 – Guilt

Emil Skoda sensed a case of déjà vu as the two men took to their customary positions. Despite doctor's orders and good faith efforts from the family of friends, Jack looked thinner than he should have. Skoda attributed it to the trials.

"How do you feel about the outcome?" he asked.

Jack shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window and studying the scene below. "Juries make their decisions."

"Even if it's the wrong one?"

"They did what they did, Emil. Don't try to find fault with the system."

Skoda didn't like the sound of that, especially coming from a man who was once passionately involved with 'the system.' He pressed on. "Was it fair what the attorney did to you on the stand?"

"The purpose of the defense is to zealously fight for their client's innocence, no matter what."

Skoda shook his head. "That's not what I asked you. How do you feel about what happened?"

"Truthfully? I think it's time I…"

"You what?"

Jack turned slowly to face Skoda. "I don't belong to that life anymore, Doctor, and I'm tired of disrupting the lives of those around me. I feel as if… I feel almost as bad as if I were still there, yet worse. I can't explain it very well, but… Aside from no sense of time, I knew my place, what Bruner was doing and why."

Emil took note of the change of address, and then moved forward. "Have you tried starting a new life since your return?"

Jack scoffed. "I could give you an honest answer, but you wouldn't be satisfied with it."

"Try me."

This time, Jack turned his attention to the floor, noting the pattern of the fibers and the subtle changes to the colors. "Wendy…" He took a deep breath, held it a moment, and then continued. "We talked briefly of…living together. I'm not sure what I had in mind for a job, but it wouldn't be law... She just picked up a job as a waitress."

"Jack, there are many things you can do that-."

He shook his head. "No, there isn't. Realistically, no one in their right mind would hire a guy my age to start over. Part of me thinks it's time…" He sighed. "Wendy and I might have attempted it. Actually, we had discussed it. Aside from Lennie's protectiveness, I probably would have moved in with her by now. Might have had a chance to…"

Skoda folded his hands together, deciding the best way to proceed. "Jack, you and I have been talking for quite some time. You've held back more than your fair share, from me, from Liz, from a good number of people, but more importantly, yourself."

"So, are you picking up where the other shrink began? Determining whether or not I qualify as insane?"

Emil would have made a face had the comment not been made during a session. First 'doctor,' then 'shrink.' Something was wrong for Jack to push this hard for distance. He asked, "Do you think you are?"

"I wouldn't say I was sane," Jack said with a grunt.

"That's not what I asked," Emil said. "I asked if you think you are insane."

Jack looked out the window again. "What if I am? What if, after 'spilling out' everything you and everyone else expects of me, it's decided, 'yeah, that Crazy Jack.'?"

"Why would that happen?"

"Because, I'm the 'un-Bruner' and I didn't do very well in preventing it."

Skoda raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, the 'un-Bruner,' Jack?"

"I can't explain it," Jack said.

Truth was, Jack didn't want to explain it. Only two other people knew the significance of that remark, one was in prison for another six months, and the other had left to work for defense.

_"You can't take your eyes off me. I am the un-you. Without me, you wouldn't exist."_

Thinking back to the first time he heard those words in the meeting room at Rikers sent chills down Jack's spine. The next time he heard them whispered in his ear, stopping his blood cold against the hot, wine-warmth breath. That happened… How many days was that after he was forced off the road and thrown in the van parked under the bridge? He thought he had a sense of time in the beginning.

Truth be told, he admitted, there was time, and then there was time after Bruner.

The other man's beard had grown thicker and his hair had grown longer. But the eyes were the same – cold, calculating and dark as death as they bore into Jack. Mark Bruner was going to have his fun, and that meant just the beginning of the games leading Jack into madness.

"_You and I still exist," Bruner said, smiling. "I've had time to plan. It's your turn. You're the un-me. Because of me, you exist. But that won't be for much longer."_

"_They'll know you've escaped," Jack said. "Bulletins are posted-."_

_Bruner laughed. "Oh, but you see, no one knows you and I are together. No one knows that there is a small group of us who've been waiting to do this for quite some time." He looked back into the shadows of the empty warehouse room. "You see, it's our turn to have some fun…with you."_

Jack shook his head, not wanting to let Skoda know anything. Yet the badgering would continue, if not from Skoda, then from Dr. Olivet. "I know I'm not who I was…before this, I mean," Jack said.

"No one expects you to be," Skoda said.

Jack sighed. He found himself on a high-wire balancing act, and one misstep… "I…feel…" If he kept his focus on that, the 'feeling' side, he could stand a chance; maybe satisfy Skoda enough without exposing his true thoughts. "I feel as if I should know what I'm doing, but I don't. I should know what could have, should have happened in that courtroom to do better than I did, but I didn't. I mean, that's…" How could he tell Skoda that he almost felt relief that it was Keagan who was acquitted and not Drake, or worse, Marolf? "Is it normal to just give in completely to your attackers and practically accept it without question?"

Skoda said, "You did what you had to do to stay alive."

Jack shook his head, wanting Skoda to get it and yet… "Maybe I… It isn't as if they made me."

"Now I know you're lying to yourself," Skoda said.

He admitted that he had been lying, but it wasn't to whom Skoda thought. "I have to live with this; I know that. I'll see their faces until the day I die; I can't change that. I suppose part of me wishes there was a way to completely forget. There isn't. I can't forget, but I don't want to remember. Does that make sense?"

Not surprised, Skoda nodded. "So, what do you want to do?"

Jack knew what he had to do. Whether the people around him would understand why would be the hard part.

--------

Lennie put a plate of food in front of Jack, just as he had every night about this time. Granted, the other man hardily ate anything, but that wouldn't stop Lennie from trying.

"How was the session?"

"Terrible," Jack said.

Lennie nodded. "Figures, huh? You know, that's probably the safest place to purge it, every bit of it, once and for all."

Jack pushed the food around with his fork. "Then why haven't I?"

"Because, you're a stubborn guy who doesn't believe in burdening anyone, that's why."

"Goodness knows I've burdened you long enough."

"Bull," Lennie said. "I'm just saying that it takes one to know one. Besides," he pushed the plate closer to Jack, "I like having a roommate."

"It would make more sense if I contributed some-."

"With what? You hardily cost a thing. I mean grocery wise…" He pointed at the still-full plate. "That and I think Lady Sera Ella has a crush on you."

At this, Jack laughed. "Your neighbor? Why? I figured you'd be the one to sweep her off her feet with a song and dance. I've nothing to offer her."

"Do you know how to play cribbage?" Jack nodded. "There you go; she's always looking for a new challenger."

Jack shook his head. "What about your landlord? I'm sure he's looking for a new rent check."

Lennie waved off the comment. "It cost me the same no matter what; try again."

"I can't," Jack said.

"Thought so," he said triumphantly. "Eat something."

For once, Jack cleaned off his plate. Lennie smiled to himself as he went and grabbed the bag of bakery goods. He was probably pushing it, but why not, he thought.

---------

Eliot got off the phone with his daughters, glad to catch them before bedtime. For them, bath time would be the fun it was mean to be. His thoughts turned to the second video Munch had.

The very idea of possibly drowning in a tubful of blood turned Eliot's stomach. Thinking back to the night at the restaurant, it was any wonder why McCoy was upset. Munch's theory was that the blood originated from the initial group of murders on tape one, and re-supplied with numerous unknown, unseen murders after.

Eliot could only imagine what was going through Jack's mind when he was dragged into that room and given the choice of bedroom or bath. The bedroom had to be behind the door visible in the margins of the tape. Given the darkness of the unseen room, Eliot agreed with Munch that there probably wasn't meant to be a camera in there. However, sounds traveled through just the same.

His ability to identify the constantly covered captor was no more successful than Munch's or Fontana's. On the off-chance, Eliot called Logan, hinting around only to learn that the other man was fully aware of the recording, too.

One man was too careful around the cameras, while the other captors were utterly clueless. 'Candid Camera for Criminals' - that's how Logan referred to the setup. 'Taped Trophies' was Stabler's reply.

Benson was not around, so Eliot grabbed the tape out of Munch's desk and went to one of the other rooms to watch it again.

It didn't dawn on him until now that the 'Mystery Man' was the regular mender murmuring apologetically to McCoy during the clean-up baths – a second tub along the wall, a portion of it visible on the tape. It was as if this guy was feeling guilty about what was going on in the other rooms. Regretfully, the voice never went above a whisper, and nothing was clearly said to give the guys at TARU something to work with in terms of voice identification.

"If you were feeling that badly about it," Eliot asked the recording, "then why didn't you do anything to stop it?"

--------

"I'm allowed to question your decision, sir!" Alex Borgia said. "I mean, she practically allowed him to be assaulted all over again and said nothing! And with this next case, how can I be sure she won't do it again?"

Arthur Branch sighed before answering. "What do you want me to do? Take him off the witness list and hope you can get a conviction?"

"We didn't get one when we did put him on the stand because Connie didn't do her job in objecting!"

"You know," he said, "it might be time for me to reassign you to a different case. If you don't like-."

"What I don't like is the zealousness this office has shown in prosecuting a man who was once one of your own! What I don't like is how quickly a trial was set up without the sufficient evidence; I don't like how we would do our best in almost any case but this last one."

Alex held back the conversation Judge Ross had with her at the restaurant at day's end.

"Sir," she said calmly, "I just need to know how we're going to protect our witnesses on the stand if and when the final two cases go to court."

"Until we find those last two, that isn't going to be a concern of yours for now." He grabbed his coat and opened the door waiting for her to precede him. "If it makes you feel any better, you gotta do what you gotta do. I might not fire you for it."

------------

Alex Borgia set her briefcase down before she took Tim Schwimmer's offered hand. A young man who began at legal aid now finding himself on the other side of the bars because he stood for what he believe in… She couldn't get over it.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me," she said as she sat in the cold metal chair. This particular visit would never have been approved by Arthur or Connie and she didn't care. When she sought advice first from Danielle Melnick, then Judge Ross, they gave her the same carefully worded reply, neither endorsing nor preventing the meeting.

"Hey," Schwimmer said with a sincere smile, "I had to reschedule several other important meetings, but for you, I'll do anything."

They started with small talk, Alex hoping to ease into the purpose of her visit. After a while, Schwimmer said, "You can just come out and ask me, you know. I don't hate all DAs."

"Just certain ones named McCoy?" she asked sheepishly.

He shook his head. "We're of the same cloth, doing what we have to do for justice. I don't blame him. I'm hoping he doesn't blame me."

"Mr. Schwimmer, are you aware that Mark Bruner is still on the loose? He may have kept Mr. McCoy hostage for a while, too."

The look of shock and dismay was genuine on the young man's face. "No. Oh my, g-… I'm sorry. Is he all right?"

Alex nodded. "In a matter of speaking. We're trying to determine the location of-."

"Hold it right there," Schwimmer said. "Please, call me Tim. Second, I still can't tell you where-."

"Oh, no! That wasn't it, M- Tim. I just need a 'yes' or 'no' answer to three possible places that our forensics teams have narrowed it down to." The last part was a lie, but they seemed likely, Fontana said. Alex took out the photos, praying for the necessary answer so many desperately wanted.

----------------


	15. Getaway

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Chapter 15 – Getaway

"So, is Alex short for 'Alexis'?" Tim asked, true to his word in the avoidance of an address.

Alex bit back a smile. "Alexandra."

"And this new prosecutor, Connie – that's short for Constance, right?"

This time Alex shook her head, reminding herself not to laugh, amazed both of his persistence and good humor. "Consuela." For a moment, she thought she had offended him.

Tim made a face. "Alexandra, Consuela …Serena, Jessica…" He seemed lost in thought before he said any more. "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice a pattern." Off of Alex's look, he continued. "Bruner had a way of… I don't know if I could do it justice in describing such an abridged version of it, however…

"If you've looked into Bruner's case, you might have read that his first attorney, Jessica Sheets, asked to be removed, the reason why I won my one and only major case. He told me that he didn't care that she left or that Jack didn't fight her request.

"We both knew that was a lie. He fumed. Not so much that she left – to him it was a game of … how uncomfortable he could make people. Jessica was the first point he won. Jack helped, so that made her Bruner's first target for the next round of games. G-. Bruner's a madman."

"Did they know? Did Jessica-?"

Tim shook his head. "Directly? No. She kept her distance from him though because he gave her the creeps. That drew him to her instantly. The smell of fear from a potential victim gave him control."

"What about Serena?"

Tim lowered his head, buying time by studying his fingernails. "That had to be the creepiest, most disturbing time the three of us were in a room with him. He just kept repeating her name, in this sick, sing-song way that… She was just as spooked by him as Jessica was. I remember that McCoy was trying to negotiate a deal, tried to put on a strong front. All McCoy did was say her name, meant as an encouragement, a support to be strong.

" 'Oh, let's not upset him until we get what we want,' was his reply."

Alex took it all in. "Mr. McCoy-."

"You have to understand, with Jack, it was a struggle. I know it; I recognized it because I went through it, too. And what he said to Jack on his way out…" Tim shook his head as if to dismiss the memory.

"Serena and Jessica are Jack's Achilles' heel, we know that – me, Bruner…Jack." He held Alex's attention as he added, "Hopefully, Bruner doesn't know about you and Consuela, otherwise the leverage might have just doubled. Bruner intends to get his way."

--------

Both men sat over a silent breakfast, Lennie with his crossword puzzle and Jack with the word search.

"What do you say that you and I join Mike and Ed over at Van Buren's place for dinner tonight? You should be tired of my cooking by now, right?"

Jack smiled. "Not by a long shot, Lennie - your cooking, I mean," he added. "Doesn't she have a full house already?"

Lennie nodded. "And that's going to stop her from inviting us good-looking guys because…?" He sensed Jack was going to try to find a way to avoid it. "Don't tell me that I have to beg you."

Jack flinched slightly, not entirely unnoticed by his friend. "Maybe it would help if I went to see my daughter," he said. "Let you enjoy-."

"I'll see your daughterly visit and raise you the same. Julie lives along the way. I'll drive." It had been a while since he saw his own daughter. A 'double-father-daughter' date might be a decent idea.

----

Jack stood in the shower with his forehead leaning against the back of his hand while the hot water cascaded down. His suggestion backfired in more ways than one. In all honesty, he didn't want to see his daughter again. What she said had hurt him, not because she meant it, but because he didn't want to believe she was right. Had he neglected his own daughter that he failed to see her only when it was too late?

He shook his head, turning the water temperature up. Daughters were supposed to test their mothers, not their fathers, not to that extent. Jack wondered if it was worth asking Lennie for his share of parenting trials then thought better of it. To ask the questions meant accepting the plan to get away, to accept another step towards something he was trying to slip away from.

It would only be a matter of time before Lennie figured out that Jack stopped taking his medication again. If he continued to eat whatever was set before him, then maybe he stood a chance in distracting Lennie and Skoda from even pondering the change.

Once, Jack tried the front door only to find it dead bolted. He couldn't remember when Lennie had it installed or where the key was possibly kept, but his guardian was ever diligent. The fact that Jack hadn't noticed it sooner, but worse, accepted it without challenge, worried him a little.

An equally absurd thought, Jack wondered what happened to the contents of his apartment. Erin had mentioned storage and his ex-wife offered to drive him to the storage unit, but he didn't have the nerve to go through with it. Sometimes, a book would come to mind that he wished he could read, an inscription to reread, remember, and then ponder over. As far as music went, Lennie's collection wasn't half-bad. Anything Lennie had was a far better cry than the noise that sometimes played in…

No, Jack thought. He had to find a way…

There was a knock on the door, scattering his already scattered thoughts. "Did you drown in there?" Lennie asked jokingly.

Reluctantly, Jack turned off the shower and stood there as the drops struck the floor. One thing he didn't miss from his apartment was the bathtub. Just the thought of the sight of it made Jack's head spin. He took a series of deep breaths to calm down, waiting for the nausea to subside. When it finally passed, he dressed into the jeans and sweatshirt he had grown accustomed to, thankful it wasn't similar to what he had before…

No. Maybe Lennie's advice was right on target – purge everything once and for all. He already said goodbye to his former life, one so familiar to him that now became a foreign foe. One regret he admitted to was not having a chance to work with Alex Borgia. Somehow, he thought, she could have been a breath of fresh air had he kept working at the office.

------------

Alex Borgia walked into the precinct with a little extra spring to her step. Her meeting with Schwimmer offered more than she hoped for. Being able to tell Fontana that he was right put her in a better mood than she had been in months. Perhaps it could do the same for the officers.

Tim had kept his word about saying nothing about location he knew of for the fifteen bodies mentioned a couple of years ago. When their conversations about the Bruner case and short legal careers ended, he slid one of the photos towards Alex, tapping it then said, "Nothing."

That had been the highlight of the talk. The low point dealt with Bruner's focus on Serena Sutherlyn and Jessica Sheets. The information Tim provided gave Alex something to worry about, if what Tim said was true.

-------------

Jack sat in the waiting room as the argument continued in the office. Doctors Olivet and Skoda were on the same side for once – against Lennie. It bothered Jack. The disagreement on the other side dealt with the idea of the visit, the termination of the sessions - with Dr. Olivet only - and the fact that Lennie had made arrangements for the getaway weekend to be far from New York.

Jack and the secretary exchanged painful smiles as the arguing escalated. If he were to go through with it, this was probably the best time as any, he thought.

"Water fountain's around the corner, down this way, yes?"

"Yeah," the secretary said. "I could get you a-."

He shook his head. "Just need a sip or two. Ease the dryness, you know."

Jack walked cautiously down the hall, not daring to look over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. The water fountain was tucked away by the restrooms, passersby wouldn't have noticed him. He did what he said, then leaned his back against the wall. It would be so easy, he thought.

Jack pushed the elevator button and held his breath. To be caught now would be… Stop it, he chided himself. This was for the best. He let out a sigh of relief when the car arrived empty. Only a few floors until… As he watched the lights count off the floors, he remembered the numbers he gave when identifying half of his tormentors.

"Three, four, five," he said softly, "why am I still alive?" The chime indicated the necessary floor. All he had to do was keep walking…

---------------------

"So that's it? We're going to close the case just like that? Come on, Lieutenant!" Logan couldn't believe it. He and the other teams knew they didn't have complete closure. To do this now was premature and maddening.

"Mike, we don't have the resources to spare. Other cases are coming in and-."

He leaned forward over her desk to plead his case. "Then let me work this on my off-time. We're too close to call it quits now. We owe it to him."

"You're beginning to sound like Ed. This is out of my hands. Cragen's telling his team the same thing."

"Donnie will do what he wants. Bruner is still out there and-."

Van Buren leaned forward also, her hands folded calmly before her, contrasting Mike's tensed ones pressed on either side of the desk. "You don't think I know how much of a danger that man is? The FBI has him on their list. Who else is out there for us to go after, Mike, huh? We've nothing to go on regarding the sixth man and given how many times you guys have gone over the evidence, if a clue hasn't surfaced now, I doubt one will."

"So, we're just gonna let those creeps get away, is that it?"

"No. But, we're not going to let other creeps get away, either. This case is closed."

-------

Cassady noted Logan's mood as he slammed things about his desk. Green was incredibly calm. It was a definite turnabout from how this case began, she thought, given the role reversals among other things.

Fontana looked up at her then returned to his paperwork. "It was bound to happen."'

"Think they'd take comfort in the fact we've closed the arson side of it?" she asked. A majority of the bodies were identified, but some were still unknown. Drake's detailed confession of how the fire was set, good old gasoline among many other accelerants, the timing of Jack's body stashed in the neighboring building, etc. dealt some closure to some things.

"Maybe," he said. "What do you have on that hit and run case?"

"The insurance company gave us some of the information requested," she said handing over some notes. "Do you think he'll ever be free of this?" She didn't have to say whom she was referring to.

This time, Joe studied her for a moment, a faraway look briefly coming and going from his face. "I don't think he'll clearly get away from this. Then again, he might." He paused before adding, "I don't know if I might."

"Me neither," she said. Nina made it a point to ask Ed to join her for lunch, just to check in with him, so to speak.

-------------------

"Penny for your thoughts," Benson said as she leaned against the wall by the coffee pot.

Munch looked at her. "With the rate of inflation, I think you mean a dollar, don't you?"

"Fine, make it five. You look…"

"I always look like this, Liv. With a face like this, who needs plastic surgery?"

"Upset," she finished. "It's what Cragen said, isn't it. He's right, you know. It isn't as if we have all the time in the world to devote to a single case. And it isn't as if we have a perfect solve-rate. Some cases leave unanswered questions, John. That's life. It sucks, but it's true."

"That isn't what's bothering me," he said. They stood in silence, Olivia expecting an answer John wasn't in a hurry to share.

"What is it with you guys and the stoic statue act?" she said. "Spill it, or I'll go find Fin and Eliot and we'll fish it out of you."

He studied her a moment and knew she meant what she said, even if half-heartedly. He could take down either guy if he wanted to, really. "When I feel like telling you, I will."

With that, Munch walked away, back to his desk and pulled out a photo of the latest victim.

---------

Jack surprised himself in how easy it was to get to the other side of the building, on the far side where Skoda's office was, thankful of the crowd of normal people even as the close proximity of them terrified him. He walked down a few blocks before he hailed a cab. Part of him felt guilty about taking money out of Lennie's wallet, but knew he had to do it.

As soon as he got into the cab, he counted the bills once more, determining the amount he had to work with. "How far east towards the docks would forty dollars get me?" he asked the cabbie.

"What, pal, no particular destination?"

Jack shook his head. "Just east, forty…" he double counted the amount, finding an extra bill stuck to another, "no, fifty dollars worth, please."

"You some kind of kook or something?" the cabbie asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. When Jack didn't answer, the cabbie, who held a faint resemblance to Keagan, started the meter and drove off. "All right, buddy," he said, "have it your way."

Jack closed his eyes allowing his mind to swim with memories of the initial case more than he wished. Bruner picked up his victims in a cab, the young women thinking with a false sense of security that they were headed to the places they wanted. Bruner had admitted parts of his conversations with his victims to Jack not only during the visits to Rikers but shortly after Jack was brought to…

He knew what would happen if he chose death, and that was why he headed back now to what he saw as the beginning of the end. Jack opened his eyes when the taxi screeched to a stop along side an abandoned building not far from the pier. Squinting to look at the meter, he saw the fare was more than he asked for.

"I intended to tip you," Jack said, handing the three twenties with a few other worn bills. "I'm sorry it's less than-."

The cabbie took the collection and shook his head. "Look, mister, this is more than enough for a tip and you don't strike me as one who should take a longer walk than necessary to the beach. Honestly, though, don't you think I should take you to a hospital instead? You're looking rather pale."

Jack shook his head. "My brother accuses me of the same thing," he said. "Will you do me a favor, please? If he asks you where you dropped me off, could you come up with-?"

The cabbie laughed, eerily similar to Bruner's laugh. "Mister, do you know how many fares I pick up daily and how many cabs there are out there? What makes you think your brother would-?"

"Because it's what he's good at," Jack said sadly. "He's too good looking out for me." With that, Jack exited the cab, allowing the cold air to whip through him as he closed the door. Making a conscious effort not to turn around, hoping the cabbie just turned around and left, Jack began walking towards the beach even as the warehouse buildings called out to him.

He felt as if someone was following him, fearing it was the cabbie, then again sensing it was who he sought out now. A sedan slowed to match Jack's pace. An automatic window rolled down and a familiar voice called out to him. Not taking his eyes from the sidewalk ahead of him, Jack obediently turned toward the now open door and got in.

"I knew you'd come back to us."

"May I lie down in the back," he asked, knowing he didn't want to be seen, feeling tired from the short walk that weighed heavily on him. "I beg you," he added.

"Of course," The Protector said, putting the car in park before he got out. From the trunk, the other man took out a thick blanket and a small pillow to situate on the back seat. "You can rest as long as you want," he said as Jack curled up on the leather seat.

Jack felt the familiar stroking of The Protector's hand on his head, over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, knowing the awaiting kiss to the top of his head, kept them closed before falling asleep to the hum of the tires along the pavement, not wanting to pay attention to the path back to pain.

Between Bruner's control and Keagan's oppressive obsession, The Protector's soft stability would keep Jack on this side of insanity, he told himself.

Jack silently repeated the reasons why this decision was for the best: in that Serena, Jessica and the other women Bruner threatened to harm would be safe, and that others would be spared from…

Someone shook his shoulder. Jack opened his eyes.


	16. Gains

Disclaimer: Own no one in the World of Wolf. Original characters, I'll own up to.

Author's Note – Many thanks to: RRSherlock for being the trusted 'Chapter Chopper Checker' and warning me if things were either getting too long (which is the case most of the time) or too short. Thanks to Lynn and McCoylover for the daily support. I don't know if I would have ever attempted this venture otherwise.

Chapter 16 – Gains

"Jack? Are you all right?" A soft hand touched his shoulder, gently shaking him. "Jack?"

Jack awoke to find his head resting against an arm now gone numb, oblivious to the pain of the edge of the curved-arm rail digging into his skin. Lifting his arm, he saw that he had cut himself just above the elbow, a stream of blood soaking through his sweatshirt sleeve. He blinked his eyes several times, each time seeing a familiar face now dead. When he forced himself to focus, he was startled to see Alex Borgia kneeling in front of him.

"Pardon me," she said, displacing the gentleman who occupied the other part of the bench. The other man offered his handkerchief with a quick nod. Jack looked at the man, wondering if it was whom he thought it was, knowing it had to be unlikely. The Protector never wore a suit and tie.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, to Alex or the gentleman, he wasn't sure. Jack took in the surroundings, registering them in his mind, as he watched the familiar stranger walk towards the opposite side of the park.

"Where…? Who was…? Are you really…?" He didn't know which answer he sought first.

A smile took shape as Alex began cleaning the wound. "Am I really here?" she asked. "Yes," she said and then took his hand in hers, fingers folding together. They both watched the crowds walk by, the city chorus turning into cacophony in Jack's ears.

Jack studied the stranger a bit longer until he felt Alex's eyes on him. He looked down as she stole a glance of the man. "Do you know him?" Alex asked.

"I don't know," he said. He didn't remember. He wanted to say 'yes,' wanted to tell Alex that the stranger was The Protector, but he wasn't sure. He didn't remember if the Protector wore glasses like that, but he thought he knew those brown eyes and straight hair of the same color.

Jack didn't remember walking out of the building, didn't remember much of anything since… "Skoda," he whispered.

"You're a long way from his office" Alex asked, looking at the buildings bordering the park. "Are you killing time until your appointment?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know..."

"It isn't very warm out here and the last thing you need is to catch a cold. Want to join me in getting a bit of lunch – preferably in a warm café?"

"I don't know," he said. He looked up again only to see The Protector was gone.

"Or," she said, "we could go out another time." Alex removed something from her purse, unfolded it then offered Jack a pen. "Could I ask you to sign this here and here?" she asked, pointing to two lines on different pages. When he finished, simply following her request, she put the papers in her inside coat pocket. "Thanks," she said as she helped him up, She ushered him back toward the building that was a couple of blocks away, Jack unaware of returning to what he thought he escaped.

Four sets of disappointed and concerned eyes looked at him when he finally turned the corner of the hallway. Alex still held his hand behind her back, Jack tensely giving hers a tight squeeze out of anxiety.

"Do you know how close I came to calling the police?" Liz said maternal concern in her voice.

"Don't start," Lennie said, anger in his voice. "It's time-."

"Do you want to come in and talk about what happened, Jack?" Skoda asked.

"Don't disappear on us like that, Mr. McCoy," the receptionist said.

All of these statements and voices blended in an overlapping way, pushing Jack to stand on the balls of his feet, preparing to run again. Alex's hand held him back.

"Hey," she said to the others in a lighthearted tone, "what's wrong with getting a little bit of fresh city air, huh?"

Jack felt his shoulders relax, thankful for her support.

Lennie shook his head. "I'm waiting out here for you this time, pal. We don't have to go if you don't want to."

Jack nodded, knowing the other man meant either destination, either disclosure or daughterly visit. He couldn't bring himself to look at Dr. Olivet.

"I think you're making a terrible mistake," she whispered to him as she gave him a hug. He once found comfort in her arms in another life, in another time. He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he waited for Skoda to say something.

"Jack?"

That was it; that was all. Alex returned the squeezing of the hands before letting go. Somehow, he knew she'd be there for him, too. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did.

Apprehensive, reluctant, and slightly relieved, Jack entered Skoda's office, his possible sanctuary. Reality threatened to be erased if Jack didn't take the foothold offered him. As much as he wanted to cave into the alternate reality he found himself in, he wanted to flee from it as well.

----

"Where was he?" Lennie asked.

"And why didn't you call somebody, us, maybe?" Liz said.

Alex considered her answer carefully. "Can you blame him for wanting to find someplace else to organize his thoughts?"

Neither person answered.

"If you can reassure him that Serena and Jessica are and will be safe that might help him somewhat,"  
Alex offered.

Lennie asked, "Anything unusual when you found him?"

Alex shook her head. "He was just sharing a bench with some guy on his lunch break; an average looking fellow who didn't seem to mind. Jack's bewildered. There. I've stated the obvious. That doesn't mean you guys need to…smother him."

"Oh, well, why don't we just cancel all of his sessions and let Alex cure him, Lennie."

"There's no need to be sarcastic about it, Dr. Olivet. I thought we all had the same goal in mind."

---------

"What can we do about this, Jack?"

Skoda watched as his patient pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. Today regressed to their initial silent sessions; Jack stood at the window, Skoda sat in his chair.

"Commit me," he said at last. "Just commit me, now."

"You're not insane, Jack."

He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not sane either. I'm not going forward; I'm not gorging the past. I'm…" He sat down on the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest.. "Commit me, Emil. Please?"

Skoda sat on the floor beside him, cross-legged. "What about the people out there who care-?"

"I can't draw them into my hell anymore! I can't see them the way I once did! Don't' you get it? It's over! Please? I can't kill myself and I know I can't go on living-!"

"No," Skoda said. "There are people here who love and need you."

Jack shook his head continuing with a strained voice, "They don't deserve to die by me! They have lives! I told you I can't-!"

"Were you listening to Alex, Jack? Did you hear her say-?"

"No! I can't! Please… Don't…" He hiccupped. "I beg you."

With those three words, Jack's body went into convulsions that took all of Emil's strength to still.

------------

Ed Green cleared his desk with a swoop of his arm, sending pencils, pads and other personal items scattering towards the holding cells. Those in the station within earshot jumped; Mike Logan strode from the vending machine faster than he thought; Van Buren stepped out as slowly as a mother preparing to give a lecture.

"Detective," she said, her authority carrying the entire command in that single word.

Sullenly, Ed gathered up his things, surprised that Logan, Fontana and a few others around him offered assistance. With all of his things back on the desk, not necessarily in their original places, Ed went to Van Buren's office.

She closed the door behind him before taking her seat. She knew the reason for his rage but wouldn't allow him to use it as justification. Anita answered the late-evening phone call from Lennie and took in the news as solemnly as he did. It wasn't the ending she expected, nor was it one she could change at the moment.

"You're taking time off, Ed," she told him.

"Lieu-," he said, and then stopped with her silent command.

"You're upset, and I get that. However, this isn't going to help him. I could order you to go see Dr. Olivet if I have to, but I'd rather not. So, take some time off, go somewhere. You have to remember, this was his choice, Ed. He's doing what he believes is-."

"No! McCoy is-!"

"Ed," she said in the same soft-spoken voice she had been using, "he has been through Hell and back and knows he's unwell. There's nothing that you, I, Lennie or even the doctors could tell him to make him think otherwise right now."

Anita thought back to the first time this case even crept up with Neela Simmon's death and McCoy's ring embedded in her hand. Had that been almost two years ago now? Her team did what they could to find the truth with the cases they had, thanks to Jack. Between her team and the SVU, they at least put some victims to rest. But there would always be the unknowns, the unsolved, and the undiscovered.

"It doesn't help me sleep better at night, either, Ed," she said. "Give him time."

----------------------------

Jack had two lifelines before this and had let them get tangled up when he should have used them. Liz visited only twice. It was something he didn't say that told her he couldn't bear her coming back to see him like this.

Emil checked in on a weekly basis, reminding Jack that Emil would sign him out at any time, take him back and continue where they left off. Saying that brought back memories of when Jack tried to…

"What happened during that time?"

He didn't make eye contact with this therapist. Instead, Jack closed his eyes as he leaned forward, arms wrapped around his waist.

"Keagan was there from the beginning, along with Barnes and The Protector. Barnes was pure rage and revenge – why not? I put his father in prison for murder. A part of me knows Leland had a part in this somehow, but, you see, that's what he's good at – never leaving a trace that leads back to him.

"Keagan – I don't know what I did to become his target. He knew things about me that… At first, I laughed it off, inwardly, because it reminded me of a case where my assistant had used an internet spy company and read off their findings to me. I thought that's what this Keagan fellow did. No. It was old-fashioned, how-close-can-one-get stalking and I never noticed.

"The Protector tried to tell me once. It was something about how I represented something Keagan obsessed about. The Protector said that people like Keagan were dangerous because no one takes them seriously until it's too late. I learned that the hard way too many times."

"Why do you insist on calling the third captor your protector? Why doesn't he have a name?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Would you rather I call him Paul? Would that make it easier for you?"

The therapist scribbled something down. "What do you think?"

Jack grunted to himself. "Fine. Paul, it is. He did protect me when Harlan and Keagan were out of control. When the other three joined, Paul worked twice as hard to…"

"He's one of them. He's no different than the men put in prison."

Jack shook his head. "Bruner isn't back in prison yet, though, is he? Drake and Marolf were worse, in that order, too. Bruner had them all beat, though. He'd made it a point of turning me into the 'un-Bruner' by stripping me of who I was."

"Jack, you need to give the police a description of Paul. He shouldn't be out on the streets, especially if you get delusional and make another attempt to-."

"If I could describe him to you, I would. I have. I told you what Keagan had done and he's free. How do I know the same wouldn't happen with Paul?"

The therapist added a few more notes, flipping a few pages back before returning to the current page. "I noticed you had the sense enough to file a restraining order against Mr. Keagan. But tell me, do you think you're trying to protect Paul because you think he protected you?"

Jack stood up and walked to the far corner of the room, irritated as he heard only the question asked. "Paul was the one who took care of me when the migraines hit. He's the one who mended most of my injuries, who cleaned me up after… Damn it…You'll never understand."

"You're suffering from-."

"From your stupidity!" Jack yelled. "If it wasn't for Paul, I wouldn't have had an oxygen tank to protect me from smoke inhalation when Drake started the fire. I wouldn't have had Paul convince Drake to follow Bruner's orders."

Jack stopped to think about that. If Drake had left him to die in the inferno, he wouldn't have had to…

"Paul eased the pain, all right? Marolf, Keagan, Drake and Barnes took delight in… They took delight in the destruction and death they caused. Bruner merely stripped me down, bit by bit. Bruner killed me with words, from the Bible, no less, from the seventeenth chapter of Job, third chapter of Lamentations... His favorite was Isaiah, fifth chapter, twentieth verse. I had that last verse memorized long ago for different reasons.

"Bruner never laid a hand on me. Never. All he had to do was repeat a few chosen verses, remind me of certain things, like how he killed Sally or Holly, and then add that to his promises to hurt Serena and Jessica."

A shiver went down his spine as he imagined Bruner's voice in his ear simply whispering his former assistant's name. The immediate response on Jack's part was, "I beg you."

"You beg me for what, Jack?"

He hadn't realized he said it aloud. Jack decided to turn it into an advantage. "I beg – no, ask you to do your job and help me get through this. I need to regain myself."

---------------------------

Alex Borgia took out her notebook and assorted pencils as Jack looked on. She, Lennie and Danielle Melnick had been regular visitors never missing a session. Jack once wanted to tell them to stop, to forget about him, but then thought better of it. The few times John Munch came by were to convince him that canceling would be a bad choice.

Jack smiled when Alex finally finished her little ritual, thankful that she was there to take his mind off of things, even when it dawned on him that she had an agenda of her own.

"Tell me again why you think I'm a good tutor for you?" he asked, reaching for one of the light pencils for his sketch. "I'm sure that Lennie or -."

"I don't want…" She paused. "I don't want to limit myself to terrific instructors."

"And you think you could learn something from me," he said.

"That's right," she said smiling. "Don't take this the wrong way, but, you remind me of my father."

Jack laughed despite himself. "Oh no, you're so wrong! Why don't you see Erin and-."

"When was the last time you saw to her?"

He winced inwardly. Touché, he thought. "We talk on the phone. I write her letters."

"But, have you sent them?" she asked.

He sighed, realizing the many different qualities Alex possessed that drew him to her. She, like other women he knew before her, had a strength that would never die easily, a confidence and self-assuredness that he enjoyed, and a vibrant love of life that he missed.

"Guilty, Counselor," he said then chuckled. "Want to make sure personally that I put them to post today?"

"I just might, Jack," she replied, looking over the illustration he started during their last get-together.

One constant thing Jack cherished was the lack of conversation about his recovery per se. Certainly, Munch didn't hold back, nor did Stabler, but the others stayed away from the…trials as he finally called them.

Jack knew Alex itched for a chance to bring up his former passions, certain that, the eager student she was, once she brought it out in the open that all might be well…someday.

He wondered what it might have been like to work with her as his second chair, preparing her to take his place when he had retired. He bit his lower lip at that unbidden thought.

"What's wrong?" she asked, signing and dating another finished picture.

"It's nothing," he said looking back down at his own book. "Ignore the silly old man across the table from you, my dear."

He didn't want to relive the nightmares that plagued him when he thought about that time he had walked away from Skoda's office. He didn't want to think about what he seriously thought he could accomplish, returning to the knotted noose he'd eventually tug at.

As if she read his thoughts, she asked, "That day you were sitting on the bench in the cold…what… I mean…" She let the sentence taper off, allowing him to fill in the blanks.

Jack let the thoughts organize themselves in a way he could share them – carefully. "I was about to return. I thought I saw…someone and had just about made plans to just leave. If you hadn't found me, I don't know where I would have ended up."

"You were sleeping, that much I remember. You cut yourself, too."

Jack recalled something from session. "You gave me something to sign, twice. What made you think-?"

"The restraining order?" Alex said, feigning innocence as she focused on her notebook. "Anyone knowledgeable about law knows that some papers come in handy for personal safety. You'd have gotten around to it, I'm sure."

He chuckled, knowing the opposite was too close to truth then. "That's what drove me to here," he said. "I don't know if I can trust myself not to…" Jack surprised himself. After so much control in not saying more to those around him, telling everything at last to his assigned therapist here, he almost found the topic resurfacing despite the safeguards.

Alex waited for him to continue and when he didn't, she changed topics. "Hey, have you ever been to Santa Fe?" she asked.

He smiled, knowing he'd have to find his way back to the road he once lost. "No," he said. "What's in Santa Fe?"

The End.


End file.
